ilifornia 

ional 

lity 


TROOPER    PETER    HA.KET 

OF 

MASHONALAND 


TROOPER    PETER    HALKET 

OF 

MASHONALAND. 


TROOPER 

PETER    HALKET 


OF 


MASHONALAND. 


AUTHOR  OF  "THE  STORY  OF  AN  AFRICAN  FARM,"  "DREAM 
LIFE  AND  REAL  LIFE,"  AND  "DREAMS." 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS. 
1897. 


-I 


Copyright,  1897, 
BY  OLIVE  SCHREINER. 


SSntbrtsttg 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


TROOPER   PETER   HALKET   OF 
MASHONALAND 


IT  was  a  dark  night ;  a  chill  breath  was  coming 
from  the  east ;  not  enough  to  disturb  the  blaze 
of  Trooper  Peter  Halket's  fire,  yet  enough  to 
make  it  quiver.  He  sat  alone  beside  it,  on  the 
top  of  a  koppje.1 

All  about  was  an  impenetrable  darkness ;  not 
a  star  was  visible  in  the  black  curve  over  his 
head. 

He  had  been  travelling  with  a  dozen  men 
who  were  taking  provisions  of  mealies  and 
rice  to  the  next  camp.  He  had  been  sent  out 
to  act  as  scout  along  a  low  range  of  hills,  and 
had  lost  his  way.  Since  eight  in  the  morning 
he  had  wandered  among  long  grasses,  and 
ironstone  koppjes,  and  stunted  bush,  and  had 


1  Koppje,  a  little  hillock. 
i 


2  TROOPER  PETER   HALKET 

come  upon  no  sign  of  human  habitation  but 
the  remains  of  a  burnt  krall,1  and  a  down- 
trampled  and  now  uncultivated  mealie  field, 
where  a  month  before  the  Chartered  Com- 
pany's forces  had  destroyed  a  native  settlement. 

Three  times  in  the  day  it  had  appeared  to 
him  that  he  had  returned  to  the  very  spot 
from  which  he  had  started;  nor  was  it  his 
wish  to  travel  very  far,  for  he  knew  his  com- 
rades would  come  back  to  look  for  him,  to 
the  neighborhood  where  he  had  last  been 
seen,  when  it  was  found  at  the  evening  camp- 
ing ground  that  he  did  not  appear. 

Trooper  Peter  Halket  was  very  weary.  He 
had  eaten  nothing  all  day,  and  had  touched  little 
of  the  contents  of  a  small  flask  of  Cape  brandy 
he  carried  in  his  breast  pocket,  not  knowing 
when  it  would  again  be  replenished. 

As  night  drew  near  he  determined  to  make 
his  resting-place  on  the  top  of  one  of  the 
koppjes,  which  stood  somewhat  alone  and 
apart  from  the  others.  He  could  not  easily 
be  approached  there,  without  his  knowing  it. 

1  Kraal,  a  Kaffir  encampment. 


OF   MASHONALAND  3 

He  had  not  much  fear  of  the  natives;  their 
kraals  had  been  destroyed,  and  their  grana- 
ries burnt  for  thirty  miles  round,  and  they 
themselves  had  fled;  but  he  feared  somewhat 
the  lions,  which  he  had  never  seen,  but  of 
which  he  had  heard,  and  which  might  be 
cowering  in  the  long  grasses  and  brushwood 
at  the  koppje's  foot,  —  and  he  feared  vaguely, 
he  hardly  knew  what,  when  he  looked  forward 
to  his  first  long  night  alone  in  the  veld.1 

By  the  time  the  sun  had  set,  he  had  gathered 
a  little  pile  of  stumps  and  branches  on  the  top 
of  the  koppje.  He  intended  to  keep  a  fire 
burning  all  night;  and  as  the  darkness  began 
to  settle  down  he  lit  it.  It  might  be  his  friends 
would  see  it  from  far,  and  come  for  him  early 
in  the  morning;  and  wild  beasts  would  hardly 
approach  him  while  he  knelt  beside  it,  and  of 
the  natives  he  felt  there  was  little  fear. 

He  built  up  the  fire,  and  determined  if  it 
were  possible  to  keep  awake  the  whole  night 
beside  it. 

He  was  a  slight  man  of  middle  height,  with 

1  Veld,  open  country. 


4          TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

a  sloping  forehead  and  pale  blue  eyes ;  but  the 
jaws  were  hard  set,  and  the  thin  lips  of  the 
large  mouth  were  those  of  a  man  who  could 
strongly  desire  the  material  good  of  life,  and 
enjoy  it  when  it  came  his  way.  Over  the 
lower  half  of  the  face  were  scattered  a  few 
soft  white  hairs,  the  growth  of  early  manhood. 
From  time  to  time  he  listened  intently  for 
possible  sounds  from  the  distance,  where  his 
friends  might  be  encamped,  and  might  fire  off 
their  guns  at  seeing  his  light;  or  he  listened 
yet  more  intently  for  sounds  nearer  at  hand; 
but  all  was  still  except  for  the  occasional  crack- 
ling of  the  wood  in  his  own  fire,  and  the  slight 
whistle  of  the  breeze  as  it  crept  past  the  stones 
on  the  koppje.  He  doubled  up  his  great  hat 
and  put  it  in  the  pocket  of  his  overcoat,  and 
put  on  a  little  two-pointed  cap  his  mother  had 
made  for  him,  which  fitted  so  close  that  only 
one  lock  of  white  hair  hung  out  over  his  fore- 
head. He  turned  up  the  collar  of  his  coat  to 
shield  his  neck  and  ears,  and  threw  it  open  in 
front  that  the  blaze  of  the  fire  might  warm  him. 


OF   MASHONALAND  5 

He  had  known  many  nights  colder  than  this 
when  he  had  sat  around  the  camp  fire  with  his 
comrades,  talking  of  the  niggers  they  had  shot, 
or  the  kraals  they  had  destroyed,  or  grumbling 
over  their  rations ;  but  to-night  the  chill  seemed 
to  creep  into  his  very  bones. 

The  darkness  of  the  night  above  him,  and  the 
silence  of  the  veld  about  him,  oppressed  him. 
At  times  he  even  wished  he  might  hear  the 
cry  of  a  jackal,  or  of  some  larger  beast  of  prey, 
in  the  distance;  and  he  wished  that  the  wind 
would  blow  a  little  louder,  instead  of  making 
that  little  wheezing  sound  as  it  passed  the 
corners  of  the  stones.  He  looked  down  at  his 
gun,  which  lay  cocked  ready  on  the  ground 
at  his  right  side;  and  from  time  to  time  he 
raised  his  hand  automatically  and  fingered  the 
cartridges  in  his  belt.  Then  he  stretched  out 
his  small  wiry  hands  to  the  fire  and  warmed 
them.  It  was  only  half  past  ten,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  he  had  been  sitting  there  ten  hours  at 
the  least. 

After  a  while  he  threw  two  more  large  logs  on 


6  TROOPER   PETER  HALKET 

the  fire,  and  took  the  flask  out  of  his  pocket 
He  examined  it  carefully  by  the  firelight  to 
see  how  much  it  held;  then  he  took  a  small 
draught,  and  examined  it  again  to  see  how 
much  it  had  fallen,  and  put  it  back  in  his 
breast  pocket. 

Then  Trooper  Peter  Halket  fell  to  thinking. 

It  was  not  often  that  he  thought.  On  patrol 
and  sitting  round  camp  fires  with  the  other 
men  about  him  there  was  no  time  for  it;  and 
Peter  Halket  had  never  been  given  to  much 
thinking.  He  had  been  a  careless  boy  at  the 
village  school;  and  though,  when  he  left,  his 
mother  paid  the  village  apothecary  to  read 
learned  books  with  him  at  night  on  history  and 
science,  he  had  not  retained  much  of  them. 
As  a  rule  he  lived  in  the  world  immediately 
about  him,  and  let  the  things  of  the  moment 
impinge  on  him  and  fall  off  again  as  they 
would,  without  much  reflection.  But  to-night 
on  the  koppje  he  fell  to  thinking,  and  his 
thoughts  shaped  themselves  into  connected 
chains. 


OF   MASHONALAND  7 

He  wondered  first  whether  his  mother  would 
ever  get  the  letter  he  had  posted  the  week 
before,  and  whether  it  would  be  brought  to 
her  cottage  or  she  would  go  to  the  post-office 
to  fetch  it.  And  then  he  fell  to  thinking 
of  the  little  English  village  where  he  had  been 
born,  and  where  he  had  grown  up.  He  saw 
his  mother's  fat  white  ducklings  creep  in  and 
out  under  the  gate,  and  waddle  down  to  the 
little  pond  at  the  back  of  the  yard ;  he  saw  the 
schoolhouse  that  he  had  hated  so  much  as  a 
boy,  and  from  which  he  had  so  often  run  away  to 
go  a-fishing,  or  a-bird's-nesting.  He  saw  the 
prints  on  the  schoolhouse  wall  on  which  the 
afternoon  sun  used  to  shine  when  he  was  kept 
in,  —  Jesus  of  Judea  blessing  the  children,  and 
one  picture  just  over  the  door  where  He  hung 
with  His  arms  stretched  out  and  the  blood 
dropping  from  His  feet.  Then  Peter  Halket 
thought  of  the  tower  at  the  ruins  which  he  had 
climbed  so  often  for  birds'  eggs;  and  he  saw 
his  mother  standing  at  her  cottage  gate  when 
he  came  home  in  the  evening,  and  he  felt 


8  TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

her  arms  round  his  neck  as  she  kissed  him; 
but  he  felt  her  tears  on  his  cheek,  because 
he  had  run  away  from  school  all  day;  and  he 
seemed  to  be  making  apologies  to  her,  and 
promising  he  never  would  do  it  again  if  only 
she  would  not  cry.  He  had  often  thought 
of  her  since  he  left  her  on  board  ship,  and 
when  he  was  working  with  the  prospectors, 
and  since  he  had  joined  the  troop;  but  it  had 
been  in  a  vague  way:  he  had  not  distinctly 
seen  and  felt  her.  But  to-night  he  wished  for 
her  as  he  used  to  when  he  was  a  small  boy 
and  lay  in  his  bed  in  the  next  room,  and  saw 
her  shadow  through  the  door  as  she  bent  over 
her  wash-tub  earning  the  money  which  was 
to  feed  and  clothe  him.  He  remembered  how 
he  called  her,  and  she  came  and  tucked  him 
in  and  called  him  "  Little  Simon,"  which  was 
his  second  name  and  had  been  his  father's,  and 
which  she  only  called  him  when  he  was  in  bed 
at  night,  or  when  he  was  hurt. 

He  sat  there,  staring  into  the  blaze.     He  re- 
solved he  would  make  a  great  deal  of  money, 


OF   MASHONALAND  9 

and  she  should  live  with  him.  He  would  build 
a  large  house  in  the  West  End  of  London,  the 
biggest  that  had  ever  been  seen,  and  another 
in  the  country,  and  they  should  never  work  any 
more. 

Peter  Halket  sat  as  one  turned  into  stone, 
staring  into  the  fire. 

All  men  made  money  when  they  came  to 
South  Africa,  —  Barney  Barnato,  Rhodes,  — 
they  all  made  money  out  of  the  country  —  eight 
millions,  twelve  millions,  twenty-six  millions, 
forty  millions :  why  should  not  he  ? 

Peter  Halket  started  suddenly  and  listened. 
But  it  was  only  the  wind  coming  up  the  koppje 
like  a  great  wheezy  beast  creeping  upwards, 
and  he  looked  back  into  the  fire. 

He  considered  his  business  prospects.  When 
he  had  served  his  time  as  volunteer  he  would 
have  a  large  piece  of  land  given  him,  and  the 
Mashonas  and  Matabeles  would  have  all  their 
land  taken  away  from  them  in  time,  and  the 
Chartered  Company  would  pass  a  law  that 
they  had  to  work  for  the  white  men;  and  he, 


io         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

Peter  Halket,  would  make  them  work  for  him. 
He  would  make  money. 

Then  he  reflected  on  what  he  should  do  with 
the  land  if  it  were  no  good  and  he  could  not 
make  anything  out  of  it.  Then  he  should  have 
to  start  a  syndicate,  called  the  Peter  Halket 
Gold,  or  the  Peter  Halket  Iron  Mining,  or  some 
such  name,  Syndicate.  Peter  Halket  was  not 
very  clear  as  to  how  it  ought  to  be  started,  but 
he  felt  certain  that  he  and  some  other  men 
would  have  to  take  shares.  They  would  not 
have  to  pay  for  them.  And  then  they  would 
get  some  big  man  in  London  to  take  shares. 
He  need  not  pay  for  them;  they  would  give 
them  to  him,  and  then  the  company  would  be 
floated.  No  one  would  have  to  pay  anything ; 
it  was  just  the  name  —  "  The  Peter  Halket  Gold 
Mining  Company,  Limited."  It  would  float  in 
London,  and  people  there  who  did  n't  know  the 
country  would  buy  the  shares ;  they  would  have 
to  give  ready  money  for  them,  of  course,  —  per- 
haps fifteen  pounds  a  share  when  they  were  up. 
Peter  Halket's  eyes  blinked  as  he  looked  into 


OF  MASHONALAND  11 

the  fire.  And  then,  when  the  market  was  up, 
he,  Peter  Halket,  would  sell  out  all  his  shares. 
If  he  gave  himself  only  six  thousand  and  sold 
them  each  for  ten  pounds,  then  he,  Peter 
Halket,  would  have  sixty  thousand  pounds ! 
And  then  he  would  start  another  company, 
and  another. 

Peter  Halket  struck  his  knee  softly  with  his 
hand. 

That  was  the  great  thing  —  "  Always  sell  out 
at  the  right  time."  That  point  Peter  Halket 
was  very  clear  on,  he  had  heard  it  so  often  dis- 
cussed. Give  some  shares  to  men  with  big 
names  and  sell  out;  they  can  sell  out,  too,  at 
the  right  time. 

Peter  Halket  stroked  his  knee  thoughtfully. 

And  then  the  other  people,  that  bought  the 
shares  for  cash —  Well,  they  could  sell  out 
too;  they  could  all  sell  out! 

Then  Peter  Halket's  mind  got  a  little  hazy. 
The  matter  was  getting  too  difficult  for  him, 
like  a  rule  of  three  sum  at  school,  when  he 
could  not  see  the  relation  between  the  two  first 


12         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

terms  and  the  third.  Well,  if  they  did  n't  like 
to  sell  out  at  the  right  time  it  was  their  own 
faults.  Why  didn't  they?  He,  Peter  Halket, 
did  not  feel  responsible  for  them.  Every  one 
knew  that  you  had  to  sell  out  at  the  right  time. 
If  they  did  n't  choose  to  sell  out  at  the  right 
time,  well,  they  did  n't.  "  //  's  the  shares  that 
you  sell,  not  the  shares  you  keep,  that  make  the 
money" 

But  if  they  couldn't  sell  them? 

Here  Peter  Halket  hesitated.  Well,  the 
British  Government  would  have  to  buy  them, 
if  they  were  so  bad  no  one  else  would,  and 
then  no  one  would  lose.  "The  British  Gov- 
ernment can't  let  British  shareholders  suffer." 
He'd  heard  that  often  enough.  The  British 
taxpayer  would  have  to  pay  for  the  Chartered 
Company,  for  the  soldiers,  and  all  the  other 
things,  if  it  could  n't,  and  take  over  the  shares 
if  it  went  smash,  because  there  were  lords  and 
dukes  and  princes  connected  with  it.  And 
why  should  n't  they  pay  for  his  company?  He 
would  have  a  lord  in  it  too ! 


OF   MASHON ALAND  13 

Peter  Halket  looked  into  the  fire  completely 
absorbed  in  his  calculations,  —  Peter  Halket, 
Esq.,  Director  of  the  Peter  Halket  Gold  Mining 
Company,  Limited.  Then,  when  he  had  got 
thousands,  Peter  Halket,  Esq.,  M.P.  Then, 
when  he  had  millions,  Sir  Peter  Halket,  Privy 
Councillor ! 

He  reflected  deeply,  looking  into  the  blaze. 
If  you  had  five  or  six  millions  you  could  go 
where  you  liked,  and  do  what  you  liked.  You 
could  go  to  Sandringham.  You  could  marry 
any  one.  No  one  would  ask  what  your  mother 
had  been  ;  it  would  n't  matter. 

A  curious  dull  sinking  sensation  came  over 
Peter  Halket,  and  he  drew  in  his  broad  leathern 
belt  two  holes  tighter. 

Even  if  you  had  only  two  millions  you  could 
have  a  cook  and  a  valet,  to  go  with  you  when 
you  went  into  the  veld  or  to  the  wars ;  and  you 
could  have  as  much  champagne  and  other  things 
as  you  liked.  At  that  moment  that  seemed  to 
Peter  more  important  than  going  to  Sandring- 
ham. 


14         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

He  took  out  his  flask  of  Cape  Smoke,1  and 
drew  a  tiny  draught  from  it.  T. 

Other  men  had  come  to  South  Africa  with 
nothing,  and  had  made  everything,  —  why 
should  not  he? 

He  stuck  small  branches  under  the  two  great 
logs,  and  a  glorious  flame  burst  out.  Then  he 
listened  again  intently.  The  wind  was  falling 
and  the  night  was  becoming  very  still.  It  was 
a  quarter  to  twelve  now.  His  back  ached,  and 
he  would  have  liked  to  lie  down ;  but  he  dared 
not,  for  fear  he  should  drop  asleep.  He  leaned 
forward  with  his  hands  between  his  crossed 
knees,  and  watched  the  blaze  he  had  made. 

Then,  after  a  while,  Peter  Halket's  thoughts 
became  less  clear ;  they  became  at  last  rather 
a  chain  of  disconnected  pictures,  painting  them- 
selves in  irrelevant  order  on  his  brain,  than  a 
line  of  connected  ideas.  Now,  as  he  looked  into 
the  crackling  blaze,  it  seemed  to  be  one  of  the 
fires  they  had  made  to  burn  the  natives'  grain 
by,  and  they  were  throwing  in  all  they  could  nbt 
carry  away ;  then  he  seemed  to  see  his  mother's 

1  Cape  Smoke,  a  very  inferior  brandy  made  in  Cape  Colony. 


OF   MASHONALAND  15 

fat  ducks  waddling  down  the  little  path  with  the 
green  grass  on  each  side.  Then  he  seemed  to 
see  his  huts  where  he  lived  with  the  prospectors, 
and  the  native  women  who  used  to  live  with  him, 
and  he  wondered  where  the  women  were.  Then 
—  he  saw  the  skull  of  an  old  Mashona  blown  off 
at  the  top,  the  hands  still  moving.  He  heard 
the  loud  cry  of  the  native  women  and  children 
as  they  turned  the  maxims  onto  the  kraal ;  and 
then  he  heard  the  dynamite  explode  that  blew 
up  a  cave.  Then  again  he  was  working  a  maxim 
gun,  but  it  seemed  to  him  it  was  more  like  the 
reaping  machine  he  used  to  work  in  England, 
and  that  what  was  going  down  before  it  was  not 
yellow  corn,  but  black  men's  heads;  and  he 
thought  when  he  looked  back  they  lay  behind 
him  in  rows,  like  the  corn  in  sheaves. 

The  logs  sent  up  a  flame  clear  and  high,  and 
where  they  split  showed  a  burning  core  inside : 
the  crackling  and  spluttering  sounded  in  his 
brain  like  the  discharge  of  a  battery  of  artillery. 
Then  he  thought  suddenly  of  a  black  woman  he 
and  another  man  caught  alone  in  the  bush,  her 


16         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

baby  on  her  back,  but  young  and  pretty.  Well, 
they  did  n't  shoot  her !  —  and  a  black  woman 
was  n't  white  !  His  mother  did  n't  understand 
these  things ;  it  was  all  so  different  in  England 
from  South  Africa.  You  could  n't  be  expected 
to  do  the  same  sort  of  things  here  as  there. 
He  had  an  unpleasant  feeling  that  he  was  justi- 
fying himself  to  his  mother,  and  that  he  did  n't 
know  how  to. 

He  leaned  farther  and  farther  forward:  so 
far  at  last,  that  the  little  white  lock  of  his  hair 
which  hung  out  under  his  cap  was  almost  singed 
by  the  fire.  His  eyes  were  still  open,  but  the 
lids  drooped  over  them,  and  his  hands  hung 
lower  and  lower  between  his  knees.  There  was 
no  picture  left  on  his  brain  now,  but  simply  an 
impress  of  the  blazing  logs  before  him. 

Then  Trooper  Peter  Halket  started.  He  sat 
up  and  listened.  The  wind  had  gone ;  there  was 
not  a  sound:  but  he  listened  intently.  The 
fire  burnt  up  into  the  still  air,  —  two  clear,  red 
tongues  of  flame. 

Then,   on  the  other  side  of  the  koppje  he 


OF   MASHONALAND  17 

heard  the  sound  of  footsteps  ascending;    the 
slow,  even  tread  of  bare  feet  coming  up. 

The  hair  on  Trooper  Peter  Halket's  forehead 
slowly  stiffened  itself.  He  had  no  thought  of 
escaping;  he  was  paralyzed  with  dread.  He 
took  up  his  gun.  A  deadly  coldness  crept 
from  his  feet  to  his  head.  He  had  worked  a 
maxim  gun  in  a  fight  when  some  hundred  na- 
tives fell  and  only  one  white  man  had  been 
wounded,  and  he  had  never  known  fear;  but 
to-night  his  fingers  were  stiff  on  the  lock  of  his 
gun.  He  knelt  low,  tending  a  little  to  one  side 
of  the  fire,  with  his  gun  ready.  A  stone  half 
sheltered  him  from  any  one  coming  up  from  the 
other  side  of  the  koppje,  and  the  instant  the 
figure  appeared  over  the  edge  he  intended  to 
fire. 

Then  the  thought  flashed  on  him,  —  what,and 
if  it  were  one  of  his  own  comrades  come  in 
search  of  him,  and  no  barefooted  enemy !  The 
anguish  of  suspense  wrung  his  heart;  for  an 
instant  he  hesitated.  Then,  in  a  cold  agony  of 
terror,  he  cried  out,  "  Who  is  there? " 

2 


1 8         TROOPER   PETER  HALKET 

And  a  voice  replied,  in  clear,  slow  English, 
"  A  friend." 

Peter  Halket  almost  let  his  gun  drop,  in  the 
revulsion  of  feeling.  The  cold  sweat,  which 
anguish  had  restrained,  burst  out  in  large  drops 
on  his  forehead;  but  he  still  knelt,  holding 
his  gun. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  cried  out  quiver- 
ingly. 

From  the  darkness  at  the  edge  of  the  koppje 
a  figure  stepped  out  into  the  full  blaze  of  the 
firelight. 

Trooper  Peter  Halket  looked  up  at  it. 

It  was  the  tall  figure  of  a  man,  clad  in  one 
loose,  linen  garment,  reaching  lower  than  his 
knees,  and  which  clung  close  about  him.  His 
head,  arms,  and  feet  were  bare.  He  carried  no 
weapon  of  any  kind,  and  on  his  shoulders  hung 
heavy  locks  of  dark  hair. 

Peter  Halket  looked  up  at  him  with  aston- 
ishment. "Are  you  alone?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  am  alone." 

Peter  Halket  lowered  his  gun  and  knelt  up. 


OF   MASHONALAND  19 

"Lost  your  way,  I  suppose?"  he  said,  still 
holding  his  weapon  loosely. 

"  No ;  I  have  come  to  ask  whether  I  may 
sit  beside  your  fire  for  a  while." 

"  Certainly,  certainly !  "  said  Peter,  eying  the 
stranger's  dress  carefully,  still  holding  his  gun, 
but  with  the  hand  off  the  lock.  "  I  'm  con- 
foundedly glad  of  any  company.  It 's  a  beastly 
night  for  any  one  to  be  out  alone.  Wonder 
you  find  your  way.  Sit  down !  sit  down !  " 
Peter  looked  intently  at  the  stranger;  then  he 
put  his  gun  down  at  his  side. 

The  stranger  sat  down  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  fire.  His  complexion  was  dark;  his 
arms  and  feet  were  bronzed;  but  his  aquiline 
features  and  the  domed  forehead  were  not  of 
any  South  African  race. 

"  One  of  the  Soudanese  Rhodes  brought  with 
him  from  the  north,  I  suppose?"  said  Peter, 
still  eying  him  curiously. 

"No;  Cecil  Rhodes  has  had  nothing  to  do 
with  my  coming  here,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Oh  —  "  said  Peter.     "  You  did  n't  perhaps 


20         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

happen  to  come  across  a  company  of  men  to- 
day, twelve  white  men  and  seven  colored,  with 
three  cartloads  of  provisions?  We  were  taking 
them  to  the  big  camp,  and  I  got  parted  from 
my  troop  this  morning.  I  Ve  not  been  able  to 
find  them,  though  I  Ve  been  seeking  for  them 
ever  since." 

The  stranger  warmed  his  hands  slowly  at  the 
fire;  then  he  raised  his  head.  "They  are 
camped  at  the  foot  of  those  hills  to-night,"  he 
said,  pointing  with  his  hand  into  the  darkness 
at  the  left.  "  To-morrow,  early,  they  will  be 
here,  before  the  sun  has  risen." 

"  Oh,  you  Ve  met  them,  have  you  ? "  said 
Peter,  joyfully ;  "  that 's  why  you  were  n't  sur- 
prised at  finding  me  here.  Take  a  drop !  " 
He  took  the  small  flask  from  his  pocket  and 
held  it  out.  "  I  'm  sorry  there 's  so  little,  but  a 
drop  will  keep  the  cold  out." 

The  stranger  bowed  his  head,  but  thanked 
and  declined. 

Peter  raised  the  flask  to  his  lips  and  took  a 
small  draught,  then  returned  it  to  his  pocket. 


OF   MASHON ALAND  21 

The  stranger  folded  his  arms  about  his  knees, 
and  looked  into  the  fire. 

"Are  you  a  Jew?"  asked  Peter,  suddenly, 
as  the  firelight  fell  full  on  the  stranger's  face. 

"  Yes ;  I  am  a  Jew." 

"  Ah,"  said  Peter,  "that's  why  I  wasn't  able 
to  make  out  at  first  what  nation  you  could  be 
of;  your  dress,  you  know  —  "  then  he  stopped 
and  said,  "Trading  here,  I  suppose?  Which 
country  do  you  come  from?  Are  you  a  Spanish 
Jew?" 

"  I  am  a  Jew  of  Palestine." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Peter ;  "  I  have  n't  seen  many 
from  that  part  yet.  I  came  out  with  a  lot  on 
board  ship,  and  I  've  seen  Barnato  and  Beit ; 
but  they're  not  very  much  like  you.  I  sup- 
pose it's  coming  from  Palestine  makes  the 
difference." 

All  fear  of  the  stranger  had  now  left  Peter 
Halket.  "Come  a  little  nearer  the  fire,"  he 
said ;  "  you  must  be  cold,  you  have  n't  too  much 
wraps.  I  'm  chill  in  this  big  coat."  Peter  Hal- 
ket pushed  his  gun  a  little  farther  away  from 


22         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

him,  and  threw  another  large  log  on  the  fire. 
"  I  'm  sorry  I  have  n't  anything  to  eat  to  offer 
you ;  but  I  have  n't  had  anything  myself  since 
last  night.  It's  beastly  sickening  being  out 
like  this  with  nothing  to  eat  Wouldn't  have 
thought  a  fellow  'd  feel  so  bad  after  only  a  day 
of  it  Have  you  ever  been  out  without  grub  ?  " 
said  Peter,  cheerfully,  warming  his  hands  at  the 
blaze. 

"  Forty  days  and  nights,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Forty  days !  Phe — e — w !  "  said  Peter. 
"You  must  have  had  a  lot  to  drink,  or  you 
wouldn't  have  stood  it.  I  was  feeling  blue 
enough  when  you  turned  up,  but  I  'm  better 
now,  —  warmer." 

Peter  Halket  rearranged  the  logs  on  the  fire. 

"  In  the  employ  of  the  Chartered  Company, 
I  suppose?"  said  Peter,  looking  into  the  fire 
he  had  made. 

"  No,"  said  the  stranger,  "  I  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  Chartered  Company." 

"  Oh,"  said  Peter,  "  I  don't  wonder  then  that 
things  are  n't  looking  very  smart  with  you ! 


OF   MASHONALAND  23 

There's  not  too  much  cakes  and  ale  up  here 
for  those  that  do  belong  to  it,  if  they're  not 
big-wigs,  and  none  at  all  for  those  who  don't. 
I  tried  it  when  I  first  came  up  here.  I  was  with 
a  prospector  who  was  hooked  onto  the  com- 
pany somehow,  but  I  worked  on  my  own  ac- 
count for  the  prospector  by  the  day.  I  tell 
you  what,  it 's  not  the  men  who  work  up  here 
who  make  the  money;  it's  the  big-wigs  who 
get  the  concessions  !  " 

Peter  felt  exhilarated  by  the  presence  of  the 
stranger.  That  one  unarmed  man  had  robbed 
him  of  all  fear. 

Seeing  that  the  stranger  did  not  take  up  the 
thread  of  conversation,  he  went  on  after  a  time : 
"  It  was  n't  such  a  bad  life  though.  I  only  wish 
I  was  back  there  again.  I  had  two  huts  to  my- 
self, and  a  couple  of  nigger  girls.  It's  better 
fun,"  said  Peter,  after  a  while,  "having  these 
black  women,  than  whites.  The  whites  you  Ve 
got  to  support,  but  the  niggers  support  you ! 
And  when  you  Ve  done  with  them  you  can  just 
get  rid  of  them.  I  'm  all  for  the  nigger  gals." 


24         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

Peter  laughed ;  but  the  stranger  sat  motionless, 
with  his  arms  about  his  knees. 

"  You  got  any  girls?  "  said  Peter.  "  Care  for 
niggers?" 

"  I  love  all  women,"  said  the  stranger,  refold- 
ing his  arms  about  his  knees. 

"  Oh,  you  do,  do  you  ?  "  said  Peter ;  "  well, 
I  'm  pretty  sick  of  them.  I  had  bother  enough 
with  mine,"  he  said  genially,  warming  his  hands 
by  the  fire,  and  then  interlocking  the  fingers 
and  turning  the  palms  towards  the  blaze  as  one 
who  prepares  to  enjoy  a  good  talk.  "  One 
girl  was  only  fifteen;  I  got  her  cheap  from 
a  policeman  who  was  living  with  her,  and  she 
was  n't  much.  But  the  other,  by  Gad  !  I  never 
saw  another  nigger  like  her;  well  set  up,  I 
tell  you,  and  as  straight  as  that  — "  said  Peter, 
holding  up  his  finger  in  the  firelight.  "  She 
was  thirty  if  she  was  a  day.  Fellows  don't  gen- 
erally fancy  women  that  age ;  they  like  slips  of 
girls.  But  I  set  my  heart  on  her  the  day  I  saw 
her.  She  belonged  to  the  chap  I  was  with. 
He  got  her  up  north.  There  was  a  devil  of  a 


OF  MASHONALAND  25 

row  about  his  getting  her,  too ;  she  'd  got  a 
nigger  husband  and  two  children ;  did  n't  want 
to  leave  them,  or  some  nonsense  of  that  sort : 
you  know  what  these  niggers  are  ?  Well,  I  tried 
to  get  the  other  fellow  to  let  me  have  her,  but 
the  devil  a  bit  he  would.  I  'd  only  got  the 
other  girl,  and  I  did  n't  much  fancy  her ;  she 
was  only  a  child.  Well,  I  went  down  Umtali 
way  and  got  a  lot  of  liquor  and  stuff,  and  when 
I  got  back  to  camp  I  found  them  clean  dried 
out  They  had  n't  had  a  drop  of  liquor  in 
camp  for  ten  days,  and  the  rainy  season  coming 
on  and  no  knowing  when  they  'd  get  any.  Well, 
I  'd  a  '  vatje  '  of  Old  Dop1  as  high  as  that,  —  " 
indicating  with  his  hand  an  object  about  two 
feet  high, —  "  and  the  other  fellow  wanted  to  buy 
it  from  me.  I  knew  two  of  that.  I  said  I 
wanted  it  for  myself.  He  offered  me  this  and 
he  offered  me  that.  At  last  I  said,  '  Well,  just 
to  oblige  you,  I  give  you  the  "  vatje  "  and  you 
give  me  the  girl ! '  And  so  he  did.  Most  peo- 
ple would  n't  have  fancied  a  nigger  girl  who  'd 
had  two  nigger  children,  but  I  did  n't  mind  ; 
i  "  Vatje,"  of  Old  Dop,  a  little  cask  of  Cape  brandy. 


26         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

it's  all  the  same  to  me.  And  I  tell  you  she 
worked.  She  made  a  garden,  and  she  and  the 
other  girl  worked  in  it ;  I  tell  you  I  did  n't  need 
to  buy  a  sixpence  of  food  for  them  in  six 
months,  and  I  used  to  sell  green  mealies l  and 
pumpkins  to  all  the  fellows  about.  There 
were  n't  many  flies  on  her,  I  tell  you.  She 
picked  up  English  quicker  than  I  picked  up  her 
lingo,  and  took  to  wearing  a  dress  and  shawl." 

The  stranger  still  sat  motionless,  looking  into 
the  fire. 

Peter  Halket  reseated  himself  more  comfort- 
ably before  the  fire.  "  Well,  I  came  home  to 
the  huts  one  day,  rather  suddenly  you  know,  to 
fetch  something;  and  what  did  I  find?  She, 
talking  at  the  hut  door  with  a  niggerman.  Now 
it  was  my  strict  orders  they  were  neither  to 
speak  a  word  to  a  niggerman  at  all ;  so  I  asked 
what  it  was.  And  she  answers  as  cool  as  can 
be  that  he  was  a  stranger  going  past  on  the 
road,  and  asked  her  to  give  him  a  drink  of 
water.  Well,  I  just  ordered  him  off.  I  did  n't 
think  anything  more  about  it.  But  I  remember 
1  Mealies,  maize. 


OF   MASHONALAND  27 

now.  I  saw  him  hanging  about  the  camp  the 
day  after.  Well,  she  came  to  me  the  next  day 
and  asked  me  for  a  lot  of  cartridges  ;  she  'd 
never  asked  me  for  anything  before.  I  asked 
her  what  the  devil  a  woman  wanted  with  car- 
tridges, and  she  said  the  old  nigger  woman  who 
helped  carry  in  water  to  the  garden  said  she 
could  n't  stay  and  help  her  any  more,  unless  she 
got  some  cartridges  to  give  her  son  who  was 
going  up  north  hunting  elephants.  The  woman 
got  over  me  to  give  her  the  cartridges  because 
she  was  going  to  have  a  kid,  and  she  said  she 
couldn't  do  the  watering  without  help.  So  I 
gave  them  her.  I  never  put  two  and  two 
together. 

"  Well,  when  I  heard  that  the  company  was 
going  to  have  a  row  with  the  Matabele,  I 
thought  I'd  volunteer.  They  said  there  was 
lots  of  loot  to  be  got,  and  land  to  be  given  out, 
and  that  sort  of  thing,  and  I  thought  I  'd  only 
be  gone  about  three  months.  So  I  went.  I 
left  those  women  there,  and  a  lot  of  stuff  in  the 
garden  and  some  sugar  and  rice,  and  I  told 


28         TROOPER  PETER   HALKET 

them  not  to  leave  till  I  came  back ;  and  I  asked 
the  other  man  to  keep  an  eye  on  them.  Both 
those  women  were  Mashonas.  They  always 
said  the  Mashonas  did  n't  love  the  Matabele ; 
but,  by  God,  it  turned  out  they  loved  them 
better  than  they  loved  us.  They  Ve  got  the 
damned  impertinence  to  say  that  the  Matabele 
oppressed  them  sometimes,  but  the  white  man 
oppresses  them  all  the  time ! 

"  Well,  I  left  those  women  there,"  said  Peter, 
dropping  his  hands  on  his  knees.  "  Mind  you, 
I  'd  treated  those  women  really  well.  I  'd  never 
given  either  of  them  one  touch  all  the  time  I 
had  them.  I  was  the  talk  of  all  the  fellows 
round,  the  way  I  'd  treated  them.  Well,  I 
had  n't  been  gone  a  month  when  I  got  a  letter 
from  the  man  I  worked  with,  the  one  who  had 
the  woman  first,  —  he  's  dead  now,  poor  fellow ; 
they  found  him  at  his  hut  door  with  his  throat 
cut,  —  and  what  do  you  think  he  said  to  me  ? 
Why,  I  had  n't  been  gone  six  hours  when  those 
two  women  skooted !  It  was  all  the  big  one. 
What  do  you  think  she  did  ?  She  took  every 


OF  MASHONALAND  29 

ounce  of  ball  and  cartridge  she  could  find  in  that 
hut,  and  my  old  Martini-Henry,  and  even  the 
lead  off  the  tea  box,  to  melt  into  bullets  for  the 
old  muzzle  loaders  they  have;  and  off  she 
went,  and  took  the  young  one  too.  The  fellow 
wrote  me  they  did  n't  touch  another  thing :  they 
left  the  shawls  and  dresses  I  gave  them  kicking 
about  the  huts,  and  went  off  naked,  with  only 
their  blankets  and  the  ammunition  on  their 
heads.  A  niggerman  met  them  twenty  miles 
off,  and  he  said  they  were  shooting  up  for  Lo- 
Magundis  country  as  fast  as  they  could  go. 

"  And  do  you  know,"  said  Peter,  striking  his 
knee,  and  looking  impressively  across  the  fire  at 
the  stranger,  "  what  I  'm  as  sure  of  as  that  I  'm 
sitting  here  ?  It 's  that  that  nigger  I  caught  at 
my  hut  that  day  was  her  nigger  husband ! 
He  'd  come  to  fetch  her  that  time ;  and  when 
she  saw  she  couldn't  get  away  without  our 
catching  her,  she  got  the  cartridges  for  him!" 
Peter  paused  impressively  between  the  words. 
"And  now  she's  gone  back  to  him.  It's  for 
him  she  's  taken  that  ammunition !  " 


30         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

Peter  looked  across  the  fire  at  the  stranger,  to 
see  what  impression  his  story  was  making. 

"I  tell  you  what,"  said  Peter;  "if  I'd  had 
any  idea  that  day  who  that  bloody  nigger  was 
the  day  I  saw  him  standing  at  my  door,  I  'd 
have  given  him  one  cartridge  in  the  back  of  his 
head  more  than  ever  he  reckoned  for ! "  Peter 
looked  triumphantly  at  the  stranger.  This  was 
his  only  story,  and  he  had  told  it  a  score  of 
times  round  the  camp  fire,  for  the  benefit  of 
some  new-comer.  When  this  point  was  reached, 
a  low  murmur  of  applause  and  sympathy  always 
ran  round  the  group :  to-night  there  was  quiet ; 
the  stranger's  large  dark  eyes  watched  the  fire 
almost  as  though  they  heard  nothing. 

"  I  should  n't  have  minded  so  much,"  said 
Peter  after  a  while,  "though  no  man  likes  to 
have  his  woman  taken  away  from  him ;  but  she 
was  going  to  have  a  kid  in  a  month  or  two,  —  and 
so  was  the  little  one  for  anything  I  know ;  she 
looked  like  it !  I  expect  they  did  away  with  it 
before  it  came ;  they  've  no  hearts,  these  nig- 
gers; they'd  think  nothing  of  doing  that  with  a 


OF   MASHONALAND  31 

white  man's  child.  They  Ve  no  hearts ;  they  'd 
rather  go  back  to  a  black  man,  however  well 
you  Ve  treated  them.  It 's  all  right  if  you  get 
them  quite  young  and  keep  them  away  from 
their  own  people ;  but  if  once  a  nigger  woman 's 
had  a  niggerman  and  had  children  by  him,  you 
might  as  well  try  to  hold  a  she  devil !  They  '11 
always  go  back.  If  ever  I  'm  shot  it 's  as  likely 
as  not  it  '11  be  by  my  own  gun  with  my  own 
cartridges.  And  she  'd  stand  by  and  watch 
it,  and  cheer  them  on;  though  I  never  gave 
her  a  blow  all  the  time  she  was  with  me.  But 
I  tell  you  what  —  if  ever  I  come  across  that 
bloody  nigger  I  '11  take  it  out  of  him.  He 
won't  count  many  days  to  his  year  after  I  Ve 
spotted  him ! "  Peter  Halket  paused.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  the  eyes  under  their 
heavy  curled  lashes  were  looking  at  some- 
thing beyond  him  with  an  infinite  sadness, 
almost  as  of  eyes  that  wept. 

"You  look  awfully  tired,"  said  Peter; 
"  would  n't  you  like  to  lie  down  and  sleep  ?  You 
could  put  your  head  down  on  that  stone,  and 
I'd  keep  watch." 


32          TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

"  I  have  no  need  of  sleep,"  the  stranger  said. 
"  I  will  watch  with  you." 

"You've  been  in  the  wars  too,  I  see,"  said 
Peter,  bending  forward  a  little,  and  looking  at 
the  stranger's  feet.  "  By  God !  Both  of  them ! 
—  And  right  through !  You  must  have  had 
a  bad  time  of  it." 

"  It  was  very  long  ago,"  said  the  stranger. 

Peter  Halket  threw  two  more  logs  on  the  fire. 
"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  I  've  been  wonder- 
ing ever  since  you  came  who  it  was  you  re- 
minded me  of.  It 's  my  mother !  You  're  not 
like  her  in  the  face,  but  when  your  eyes  look  at 
me  it  seems  to  me  as  if  it  was  she  looking  at  me. 
Curious,  isn't  it?  I  don't  know  you  from 
Adam,  and  you  've  hardly  spoken  a  word  since 
you  came ;  and  yet  I  seem  as  if  I  'd  known  you 
all  my  life."  Peter  moved  a  little  nearer  him. 
"  I  was  awfully  afraid  of  you  when  you  first 
came ;  even  when  I  first  saw  you,  —  you  are  n't 
dressed  as  most  of  us  dress,  you  know.  But  the 
minute  the  fire  shone  on  your  face  I  said,  '  It 's 
all  right.'  Curious,  isn't  it?  "said  Peter.  "I 


OF   MASHONALAND  33 

don't  know  you  from  Adam,  but  if  you  were  to 
take  up  my  gun  and  point  it  at  me,  I  would  n't 
move !  I  'd  lie  down  here  and  go  to  sleep  with 
my  head  at  your  feet ;  curious,  is  n't  it,  when  I 
don't  know  you  from  Adam  ?  My  name's  Peter 
Halket.  What's  yours?  " 

But  the  stranger  was  arranging  the  logs  on 
the  fire.  The  flames  shot  up  bright  and  high, 
and  almost  hid  him  from  Peter  Halket's  view. 

"  By  Gad !  how  they  burn  when  you  arrange 
them  !  "  said  Peter. 

They  sat  quiet  in  the  blaze  for  a  while. 

Then  Peter  said,  "  Did  you  see  any  niggers 
about  yesterday?  I  have  n't  come  across  any 
in  this  part." 

"  There  is,"  said  the  stranger,  raising  himself, 
"  an  old  woman  in  a  cave  over  yonder,  and  there 
is  one  man  in  the  bush,  ten  miles  from  this  spot. 
He  has  lived  there  six  weeks,  since  you  de- 
stroyed the  kraal,  living  on  roots,  or  herbs.  He 
was  wounded  in  the  thigh,  and  left  for  dead. 
He  is  waiting  till  you  have  all  left  this  part  of 
the  country,  that  he  may  set  out  to  follow  his 
3 


34        TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

own  people.  His  leg  is  not  yet  so  strong  that 
he  may  walk  fast." 

"  Did  you  speak  to  him,"  said  Peter. 

"  I  took  him  down  to  the  water  where  a  large 
pool  was.  The  bank  was  too  high  for  the  man 
to  descend  alone." 

"  It 's  a  lucky  thing  for  you  our  fellows  did  n't 
catch  you,"  said  Peter.  "  Our  captain 's  a  regu- 
lar little  martinet.  He  'd  shoot  you  as  soon  as 
look  at  you,  if  he  saw  you  fooling  round  with  a 
wounded  nigger.  It's  lucky  you  kept  out  of 
his  way." 

"  The  young  ravens  have  meat  given  to  them," 
said  the  stranger,  lifting  himself  up ;  "  and  the 
lions  go  down  to  the  streams  to  drink." 

"  Ah  —  yes  —  "  said  Peter ;  "  but  that 's  be- 
cause we  can't  help  it !  " 

They  were  silent  again  for  a  little  while. 
Then  Peter,  seeing  that  the  stranger  showed  no 
inclination  to  speak,  said,  "  Did  you  hear  of  the 
spree  they  had  up  Bulawayo  way,  hanging  those 
three  niggers  for  spies?  I  was  n't  there  myself, 
but  a  fellow  who  was,  told  me  they  made  the 


OF   MASHONALAND  35 

niggers  jump  down  from  the  tree  and  hang 
themselves;  one  fellow  would  n't  bally  jump, 
till  they  gave  him  a  charge  of  buckshot  in  the 
back;  and  then  he  caught  hold  of  a  branch  with 
his  hands,  and  they  had  to  shoot  'em  loose.  He 
did  n't  like  hanging.  I  don't  know  if  it 's  true, 
of  course ;  I  was  n't  there  myself,  but  a  fellow 
who  was,  told  me.  Another  fellow  who  was  at 
Bulawayo,  but  who  was  n't  there  when  they  were 
hung,  says  they  fired  at  them  just  after  they 
jumped,  to  kill  'em.  I  — " 

"  I  was  there,"  said  the  stranger. 

"Oh,  you  were?"  said  Peter.  "I  saw  a 
photograph  of  the  niggers  hanging  and  our  fel- 
lows standing  round  smoking;  but  I  did  n't  see 
you  in  it.  I  suppose  you  'd  just  gone  away." 

"  I  was  beside  the  men  when  they  were 
hung,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Oh,  you  were,  were  you  ?  "  said  Peter.  "  I 
don't  much  care  about  seeing  that  sort  of  thing 
myself.  Some  fellows  think  it 's  the  best  fun 
out  to  see  the  niggers  kick;  but  I  can't  stand 
it :  it  turns  my  stomach.  It 's  not  liver-hearted- 


36         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

ness,"  said  Peter,  quickly,  anxious  to  remove 
any  adverse  impression  as  to  his  courage  which 
the  stranger  might  form ;  "  if  it 's  shooting  or 
fighting,  I  'm  there.  I  Ve  potted  as  many 
niggers  as  any  man  in  our  troop,  I  bet.  It's 
floggings  and  hangings  I  'm  off.  It 's  the  way 
one 's  brought  up,  you  know.  My  mother  never 
even  would  kill  our  ducks :  she  let  them  die  of 
old  age,  and  we  had  the  feathers  and  the  eggs ; 
and  she  was  always  drumming  into  me, — '  Don't 
hit  a  fellow  smaller  than  yourself;  don't  hit  a 
fellow  weaker  than  yourself;  don't  hit  a  fellow 
unless  he  can  hit  you  back  as  good  again.' 
When  you  Ve  always  had  that  sort  of  thing 
drummed  into  you,  you  can't  get  rid  of  it  some- 
how. Now,  there  was  that  other  nigger  they 
shot.  They  say  he  sat  as  still  as  if  he  was  cut 
out  of  stone,  with  his  arms  round  his  legs,  and 
some  of  the  fellows  gave  him  blows  about  the 
head  and  face  before  they  took  him  off  to  shoot 
him.  Now,  that 's  the  sort  of  thing  I  can't  do. 
It  makes  me  sick  here,  somehow."  Peter  put 
his  hand  rather  low  down  over  the  pit  of  his 


OF  MASHONALAND  37 

stomach.  "  I  '11  shoot  as  many  as  you  like  if 
they  '11  run,  but  they  must  n't  be  tied  up." 

"  I  was  there  when  that  man  was  shot,"  said 
the  stranger. 

"  Why,  you  seem  to  have  been  everywhere," 
said  Peter.  "  Have  you  seen  Cecil  Rhodes  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  have  seen  him,"  said  the  stranger. 

"Now  he's  death  on  niggers,"  said  Peter 
Halket,  warming  his  hands  by  the  fire ;  "  they 
say  when  he  was  Prime  Minister  down  in  the 
Colony,  he  tried  to  pass  a  law  that  would  give 
masters  and  mistresses  the  right  to  have  their 
servants  flogged  whenever  they  did  anything 
they  did  n't  like ;  but  the  other  Englishmen 
would  n't  let  him  pass  it  But  here  he  can  do 
what  he  likes.  That 's  the  reason  some  fellows 
don't  want  him  to  be  sent  away.  They  say  if 
we  get  the  British  Government  here,  they  '11  be 
giving  the  niggers  land  to  live  on,  and  let  them 
have  the  vote,  and  get  civilized  and  educated 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing;  but  Cecil  Rhodes, 
he'll  keep  their  noses  to  the  grindstone.  '/ 
prefer  land  to  niggers]  he  says.  They  say  he  's 


38         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

going  to  parcel  them  out,  and  make  them  work 
on  our  lands  whether  they  like  it  or  not  —  just 
as  good  as  having  slaves,  you  know ;  and  you 
have  n't  the  bother  of  looking  after  them  when 
they  're  old.  Now,  there  I  'm  with  Rhodes ;  I 
think  it 's  an  awfully  good  move.  We  don't 
come  out  here  to  work:  it's  all  very  well  in 
England ;  but  we  've  come  here  to  make  money, 
and  how  are  we  to  make  it,  unless  you  get 
niggers  to  work  for  you,  or  start  a  syndicate? 
He 's  death  on  niggers,  is  Rhodes  !  "  said  Peter, 
meditating ;  "  they  say  if  we  had  the  British 
Government  here  and  a  nigger  died  while  you 
were  thrashing  him,  there  'd  be  an  investigation, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  But  with  Cecil  it 's 
all  right;  you  can  do  what  you  like  with  the 
niggers,  provided  you  don't  get  him  into 
trouble." 

The  stranger  watched  the  clear  flame  as  it 
burnt  up  high  in  the  still  night  air;  then  sud- 
denly he  started.  "What  is  it?"  said  Peter; 
"do  you  hear  anything?" 

"  I  hear  far  off,"  said  the  stranger,  "  the  sound 


OF   MASHONALAND  39 

of  weeping,  and  the  sound  of  blows.  And  I  hear 
the  voices  of  men  and  women  calling  to  me." 

Peter  listened  intently.  "  I  don't  hear  any- 
thing !  "  he  said.  "  It  must  be  in  your  head.  I 
sometimes  get  a  noise  in  mine."  He  listened 
intently.  "No,  there's  nothing.  It's  all  so 
deadly  still." 

They  sat  silent  for  a  while. 

"  Peter  Simon  Halket,"  said  the  stranger,  sud- 
denly, —  Peter  started ;  he  had  not  told  him  his 
second  name,  —  "  if  it  should  come  to  pass  that 
you  should  obtain  those  lands  you  have  desired, 
and  you  should  obtain  black  men  to  labor  on 
them  and  make  to  yourself  great  wealth;  or 
should  you  create  that  company,"  —  Peter 
started,  — "  and  fools  should  buy  from  you,  so 
that  you  became  the  richest  man  in  the  land ; 
and  if  you  should  take  to  yourself  wide  lands, 
and  raise  to  yourself  great  palaces,  so  that 
princes  and  great  men  of  earth  crept  up  to 
you  and  laid  their  hands  against  yours,  so  that 
you  might  slip  gold  into  them  —  what  would  it 
profit  you  ?  " 


40         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

"Profit!"  Peter  Halket  stared:  "Why,  it 
would  profit  everything.  What  makes  Beit, 
and  Rhodes,  and  Barnato  so  great?  If  you've 
got  eight  millions  —  " 

"Peter  Simon  Halket,  who  of  those  souls 
you  have  seen  on  earth  is  to  you  greatest?  "  said 
the  stranger,  "  Which  soul  is  to  you  fairest?" 

"Ah"  said  Peter,  "but  we  weren't  talking 
of  souls  at  all;  we  were  talking  of  money. 
Of  course  if  it  comes  to  souls,  my  mother's 
the  best  person  I  Ve  ever  seen.  But  what  does 
it  help  her?  She 's  got  to  stand  washing  clothes 
for  those  stuck-up  nincompoops  of  fine  ladies ! 
Wait  till  I  Ve  got  money !  It  '11  be  somebody 
else  then  who  —  " 

"  Peter  Halket,"  said  the  stranger,  "  who  is 
greatest,  —  he  who  serves,  or  he  who  served  ?  " 

Peter  looked  at  the  stranger ;  then  it  flashed 
on  him  that  he  was  mad. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  if  it  comes  to  that,  what 's 
anything?  You  might  as  well  say,  sitting  there 
in  your  old  linen  shirt,  that  you  were  as  great 
as  Rhodes,  or  Beit,  or  Barnato,  or  a  king.  Of 


OF   MASHONALAND  41 

course  a  man 's  just  the  same  whatever  he 's  got 
on  or  whatever  he  has ;  but  he  is  n't  the  same 
to  other  people." 

"  There  have  kings  been  born  in  stables," 
said  the  stranger. 

Then  Peter  saw  that  he  was  joking,  and 
laughed.  "  It  must  have  been  a  long  time  ago ; 
they  don't  get  born  there  now,"  he  said.  "Why, 
if  God  Almighty  came  to  this  country,  and 
had  n't  half  a  million  in  shares,  they  would  n't 
think  much  of  him." 

Peter  built  up  his  fire.  Suddenly  he  felt  the 
stranger's  eyes  were  fixed  on  him.  "  Who  gave 
you  your  land?  "  the  stranger  asked. 

"  Mine?  Why,  the  Chartered  Company,"  said 
Peter. 

The  stranger  looked  back  into  the  fire.  "  And 
who  gave  it  to  them  ?  "  he  asked  softly. 

"  Why,  England,  of  course.  She  gave  them 
the  land  to  far  beyond  the  Zambesi  to  do  what 
they  liked  with,  and  make  as  much  money  out 
of  as  they  could,  and  she  'd  back  'em." 

"  Who  gave  the  land  to  the  men  and  women 
of  England  ?  "  asked  the  stranger,  softly. 


42         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

"  Why,  the  devil !  They  said  it  was  theirs, 
and  of  course  it  was,"  said  Peter. 

"  And  the  people  of  the  land,  —  did  she  give 
you  the  people  also?  " 

Peter  looked  a  little  doubtfully  at  the  stranger. 
"  Yes,  of  course,  she  gave  us  the  people ;  what 
use  would  the  land  have  been  to  us  otherwise?  " 

"And  who  gave  her  the  people,  the  living 
flesh  and  blood,  that  she  might  give  them  away, 
into  the  hands  of  others  ?  "  asked  the  stranger, 
raising  himself. 

Peter  looked  at  him,  and  was  half  afeared. 
"  Well,  what  could  she  do  with  a  lot  of  misera- 
ble niggers  if  she  did  n't  give  them  to  us?  A 
lot  of  good-for-nothing  rebels  they  are,  too," 
said  Peter. 

"  What  is  a  rebel?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"  My  Gawd !  "  said  Peter,  "  you  must  have 
lived  out  of  the  world  if  you  don't  know  what 
a  rebel  is !  A  rebel  is  a  man  who  rights  against 
his  king  and  his  country.  These  bloody  nig- 
gers here  are  rebels  because  they  are  fighting 
against  us.  They  don't  want  the  Chartered 


OF   MASHONALAND  43 

Company  to  have  them.  But  they  '11  have  to. 
We  '11  teach  them  a  lesson !  "  said  Peter  Halket, 
the  pugilistic  spirit  rising,  firmly  re-seating  him- 
self on  the  South  African  earth  —  which  two 
years  before  he  had  never  heard  of,  and  eigh- 
teen months  before  he  had  never  seen  —  as  if 
it  had  been  his  mother  earth,  and  the  land  in 
which  he  first  saw  light. 

The  stranger  watched  the  fire ;  then  he  said, 
musingly:  "  I  have  seen  a  land  far  from  here. 
In  that  land  are  men  of  two  kinds,  who  live  side 
by  side.  Wellnigh  a  thousand  years  ago  one 
conquered  the  other ;  they  have  lived  together 
since.  To-day,  the  one  people  seeks  to  drive 
forth  the  other  who  conquered  them.  Are 
these  men  rebels  too?" 

"  Well,"  said  Peter,  pleased  at  being  deferred 
to,  "  that  all  depends  who  they  are,  you  know !  " 

"  They  call  the  one  nation  Turks,  and  the 
other  Armenians,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Oh,  the  Armenians  are  n't  rebels,"  said 
Peter ;  "  they  are  on  our  side !  The  papers 
are  all  full  of  it,"  said  Peter,  pleased  to  show 


44         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

his  knowledge.  "  Those  bloody  Turks !  What 
right  had  they  to  conquer  the  Armenians? 
Who  gave  them  their  land  ?  I  'd  like  to  have 
a  shot  at  them  myself!  " 

"  Why  are  Armenians  not  rebels  ?  "  asked  the 
stranger,  gently. 

"  Oh,  you  do  ask  such  curious  questions," 
said  Peter.  "If  they  don't  like  the  Turks, 
why  should  they  have  'em?  If  the  French 
came  now  and  conquered  us,  and  we  tried  to 
drive  them  out  first  chance  we  had,  you 
would  n't  call  us  rebels !  Why  should  n't  they 
try  to  turn  those  bloody  Turks  out  ?  Besides," 
said  Peter,  bending  over  and  talking  in  the 
manner  of  one  who  imparts  secret  and  import- 
ant information,  "  you  see,  if  we  don't  help 
the  Armenians  the  Russians  will ;  and  we,"  said 
Peter,  looking  exceedingly  knowing,  "  we  Ve 
got  to  prevent  that :  they  'd  get  the  land ;  and 
it 's  on  the  road  to  India.  And  we  don't  mean 
them  to.  I  suppose  you  don't  know  much  about 
politics  in  Palestine?"  said  Peter, looking  kindly 
and  patronizingly  at  the  stranger. 


OF  MASHONALAND  45 

"  If  these  men,"  said  the  stranger,  "  would 
rather  be  free,  or  be  under  the  British  Govern- 
ment, than  under  the  Chartered  Company,  why, 
when  they  resist  the  Chartered  Company,  are 
they  more  rebels  than  the  Armenians  when  they 
resist  the  Turk?  Is  the  Chartered  Company 
God,  that  every  knee  should  bow  before  it,  and 
before  it  every  head  be  bent?  Would  you,  the 
white  men  of  England,  submit  to  its  rule  for 
one  day?" 

"  Ah,"  said  Peter,  "  no,  of  course  we 
shouldn't;  but  we  are  white  men,  and  so  are 
the  Armenians,  —  almost  —  "  Then  he  glanced 
at  the  stranger's  dark  face,  and  added  quickly : 
"  At  least,  it 's  not  the  color  that  matters,  you 
know.  I  rather  like  a  dark  face ;  my  mother's 
eyes  are  brown,  —  but  the  Armenians,  you 
know,  they've  got  long  hair  like  us." 

"  Oh,  it  is  the  hair,  then,  that  matters,"  said 
the  stranger,  softly. 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Peter,  "  it 's  not  altogether, 
of  course.  But  it 's  quite  a  different  thing  the 
Armenians  wanting  to  get  rid  of  the  Turks,  and 


46         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

these  bloody  niggers  wanting  to  get  rid  of  the 
Chartered  Company.  Besides,  the  Armenians 
are  Christians,  like  us !  " 

"Are  you  Christians?"  A  strange  storm 
broke  across  the  stranger's  features;  he  rose 
to  his  feet. 

"  Why,  of  course  we  are !  "  said  Peter. 
"  We  're  all  Christians,  we  English.  Perhaps 
you  don't  like  Christians,  though  ?  Some  Jews 
don't,  I  know,"  said  Peter,  looking  up  sooth- 
ingly at  him. 

"I  neither  love  nor  hate  any  man  for  that 
which  it  is  called ;  "  said  the  stranger ;  "  the 
name  boots  nothing." 

The  stranger  sat  down  again  beside  the  fire, 
and  folded  his  hands. 

"Is  the  Chartered  Company  Christian  also?" 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes,"  said  Peter. 

"What  is  a  Christian?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"Well,  now,  you  really  do  ask  such  curious 
questions.  A  Christian  is  a  man  who  believes 
in  heaven  and  hell,  and  God  and  the  Bible,  and 


OF   MASHONALAND  47 

in  Jesus  Christ  that  he  '11  save  him  from  going 
to  Hell ;  and  if  he  believes  he  '11  be  saved,  he 
will  be  saved." 

"  But  here,  in  this  world,  what  is  a  Chris- 
tian?" 

"  Why,"  said  Peter,  "  I  'm  a  Christian  —  we  're 
all  Christians." 

The  stranger  looked  into  the  fire ;  and  Peter 
thought  he  would  change  the  subject.  "  It 's 
curious  how  like  my  mother  you  are ;  I  mean 
your  ways.  She  was  always  saying  to  me: 
'  Don't  be  too  anxious  to  make  money,  Peter. 
Too  much  wealth  is  as  bad  as  too  much  pov- 
erty.' You  're  very  like  her." 

After  a  while  Peter  said,  bending  over  a  little 
towards  the  stranger:  "If  you  didn't  want  to 
make  money,  what  did  you  come  to  this  land 
for?  No  one  comes  here  for  anything  else. 
Are  you  in  with  the  Portuguese  ? " 

"  I  am  not  more  with  one  people  than  with 
another,"  said  the  stranger.  "  The  Frenchman 
is  not  more  to  me  than  the  Englishman,  the 
Englishman  than  the  Kaffir,  the  Kaffir  than  the 


48         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

Chinaman.  I  have  heard,"  said  the  stranger, 
"  the  black  infant  cry  as  it  crept  on  its  mother's 
body  and  sought  for  her  breast  as  she  lay  dead 
in  the  roadway.  I  have  heard  also  the  rich 
man's  child  wail  in  the  palace.  I  hear  all 
cries." 

Peter  looked  intently  at  him.  "  Why,  who 
are  you  ?  "  he  said ;  then,  bending  nearer  to  the 
stranger  and  looking  up,  he  added,  "  What  is  it 
that  you  are  doing  here  ?  " 

"  I  belong,"  said  the  stranger,  "  to  the  strong- 
est company  on  earth." 

"  Oh,"  said  Peter,  sitting  up,  the  look  of 
wonder  passing  from  his  face.  "  So  that 's  it,  is 
it?  Is  it  diamonds,  or  gold,  or  lands?" 

"  We  are  the  most  vast  of  all  companies  on 
the  earth,"  said  the  stranger ;  "  and  we  are  al- 
ways growing.  We  have  among  us  men  of 
every  race  and  from  every  land ;  the  Esquimo, 
the  Chinaman,  the  Turk,  and  the  Englishman,  — 
we  have  of  them  all.  We  have  men  of  every 
religion,  —  Buddhists,  Mahometans,  Confucians, 
Freethinkers,  Atheists,  Christians,  Jews.  It 


OF   MASHONALAND  49 

matters  to  us  nothing  by  what  name  the  man  is 
named,  so  he  be  one  of  us." 

And  Peter  said,  "  It  must  be  hard  for  you  all 
to  understand  one  another,  if  you  are  of  so 
many  different  kinds." 

The  stranger  answered :  "  There  is  a  sign  by 
which  we  all  know  one  another,  and  by  which 
all  the  world  may  know  us." 1 

And  Peter  said,  "  What  is  that  sign?  " 

But  the  stranger  was  silent. 

"  Oh,  a  kind  of  freemasonry !  "  said  Peter, 
leaning  on  his  elbow  towards  the  stranger,  and 
looking  up  at  him  from  under  his  pointed  cap. 
"Are  there  any  more  of  you  here  in  this 
country?  " 

"There  are,"  said  the  stranger.  Then  he 
pointed  with  his  hand  into  the  darkness ;  "  there 
in  a  cave  were  two  women.  When  you  blew 
the  cave  up,  they  were  left  unhurt  behind  a 
fallen  rock.  When  you  took  away  all  the  grain 
and  burnt  what  you  could  not  carry,  there  was 

1  By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  disciples,  in  that 
ye  love  one  another. 

4 


50        TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

one  basketful  that  you  knew  nothing  of.  The 
women  stayed  there,  for  one  was  eighty,  and 
one  near  to  the  time  of  her  giving  birth ;  and 
they  dared  not  set  out  to  follow  the  remnant  of 
their  tribe  because  you  were  in  the  plains  below. 
Every  day  the  old  woman  doled  grain  from  the 
basket;  and  at  night  they  cooked  it  in  their 
cave,  where  you  could  not  see  their  smoke ;  and 
every  day  the  old  woman  gave  the  young  one 
two  handfuls  and  kept  one  for  herself,  saying, 
'  because  of  the  child  within  you.'  And  when 
the  child  was  born  and  the  young  woman 
strong,  the  old  woman  took  a  cloth  and  filled 
it  with  all  the  grain  that  was  in  the  basket ;  and 
she  put  the  grain  on  the  young  woman's  head 
and  tied  the  child  on  her  back,  and  said,  '  Go, 
keeping  always  along  the  bank  of  the  river,  till 
you  come  north  to  the  land  where  our  people 
are  gone;  and  some  day  you  can  send  and 
fetch  me.'  And  the  young  woman  said,  '  Have 
you  corn  in  the  basket  to  last  till  they  come?' 
And  she  said,  '  I  have  enough.'  And  she  sat 
at  the  broken  door  of  the  cave  and  watched  the 


OF   MASHONALAND  51 

young  woman  go  down  the  hill  and  up  the  river 
bank,  till  she  was  hidden  by  the  bush,  and  she 
looked  down  at  the  plain  below,  and  she  saw 
the  spot  where  the  kraal  had  been,  and  where 
she  had  planted  mealies  when  she  was  a  young 
girl-" 

"  I  met  a  woman  with  corn  on  her  head  and 
a  child  on  her  back !  "  said  Peter,  under  his 
breath. 

"  —  and  to-night  I  saw  her  sit  again  at  the 
door  of  the  cave;  and  when  the  sun  had  set 
she  grew  cold,  and  she  crept  in  and  lay  down 
by  the  basket.  To-night,  at  half-past  three,  she 
will  die.  I  have  known  her  since  she  was  a 
little  child  and  played  about  the  huts,  while  her 
mother  worked  in  the  mealie  fields.  She  was 
one  of  our  company." 

"  Oh,"  said  Peter. 

"Other  members  we  have  here,"  said  the 
stranger ;  "  there  was  a  prospector,"  he  pointed 
north.  "  He  was  a  man  who  drunk  and  swore 
when  it  listed  him ;  but  he  had  many  servants, 
and  they  knew  where  to  find  him  in  need. 


52         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

When  they  were  ill  he  tended  them  with  his 
own  hands;  when  they  were  in  trouble  they 
came  to  him  for  help.  When  this  war  began, 
and  all  black  men's  hearts  were  bitter  because 
certain  white  men  had  lied  to  them  and  their 
envoys  had  been  killed,  when  they  would  have 
asked  England  to  put  her  hand  out  over  them,  — 
at  that  time  certain  of  the  men  who  fought  the 
white  men  came  to  the  prospector's  hut.  And 
the  prospector  fired  at  them  from  a  hole  he  had 
cut  in  his  door ;  but  they  fired  back  at  him  with 
an  old  elephant  gun,  and  the  bullet  pierced  his 
side,  and  he  fell  on  the  floor,  —  because  the  in- 
nocent man  suffers  oftentimes  for  the  guilty, 
and  the  merciful  man  falls  while  the  oppressor 
flourishes.  Then  his  black  servant,  who  was 
with  him,  took  him  quickly  in  his  arms  and 
carried  him  out  at  the  back  of  the  hut,  and 
down  into  the  river-bed,  where  the  water  flowed 
and  no  man  could  trace  his  footsteps,  and  hid 
him  in  a  hole  in  the  river  wall.  And  when  the 
men  broke  into  the  hut  they  could  find  no  white 
man,  and  no  traces  of  his  feet.  But  at  evening, 


OF   MASHONALAND  53 

when  the  black  servant  returned  to  the  hut  to 
get  food  and  medicine  for  his  master,  the  men 
who  were  fighting  caught  him,  and  they  said, 
'  Oh,  you  betrayer  of  your  people,  white  man's 
dog,  who  are  on  the  side  of  those  who  take  our 
lands,  and  our  wives,  and  our  daughters  before 
our  eyes,  tell  us  where  you  have  hidden  him?' 
And  when  he  would  not  answer  them,  they 
killed  him  before  the  door  of  the  hut.  And 
when  the  night  came,  the  white  man  crept  up 
on  his  hands  and  knees,  and  came  to  his  hut  to 
look  for  food.  All  the  other  men  were  gone,  but 
his  servant  lay  dead  before  the  door ;  and  the 
white  man  knew  how  it  must  have  happened. 
He  could  not  creep  farther,  and  he  lay  down 
before  the  door,  and  that  night  the  white 
man  "and  the  black  lay  there  dead  together, 
side  by  side.  Both  those  men  were  of  my 
friends." 

"  It  was  damned  plucky  of  the  nigger,"  said 
Peter,  "  but  I  Ve  heard  of  their  doing  that  sort 
of  thing  before,  —  even  of  a  girl  who  would  n't 
tell  where  her  mistress  was,  and  getting  killed. 


54        TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

But,"  he  added  doubtfully,  "  all  your  company 
seems  to  be  niggers  or  to  get  killed." 

"  They  are  of  all  races,"  said  the  stranger. 
"  In  a  city  in  the  old  Colony  is  one  of  us,  small 
of  stature  and  small  of  voice.  It  came  to  pass  on 
a  certain  Sunday  morning,  when  the  men  and 
women  were  gathered  before  him,  that  he 
mounted  his  pulpit ;  and  he  said  when  the  time 
for  the  sermon  came,  '  In  place  that  I  should 
speak  to  you,  I  will  read  you  an  history.'  And 
he  opened  an  old  book  more  than  two  thousand 
years  old,  and  he  read :  — 

" '  Now  it  came  to  pass  that  Naboth  the  Jez- 
reelite  had  a  vineyard,  which  was  in  Jezreel, 
hard  by  the  palace  of  Ahab  king  of  Samaria. 

" '  And  Ahab  spake  unto  Naboth,  saying, 
Give  me  thy  vineyard,  that  I  may  have  it  for  a 
garden  of  herbs,  because  it  is  near  unto  my 
house :  and  I  will  give  thee  for  it  a  better  vine- 
yard than  it;  or  if  it  seem  good  to  thee,  I  will 
give  thee  the  worth  of  it  in  money. 

" '  And  Naboth  said  to  Ahab,  The  Lord  forbid 
it  me,  that  I  should  give  the  inheritance  of  my 
fathers  unto  thee. 


OF   MASHON ALAND  55 

" '  And  Ahab  came  into  his  house  heavy  and 
displeased,  because  of  the  word  which  Naboth 
the  Jezreelite  had  spoken  unto  him :  for  he  had 
said,  I  will  not  give  the  inheritance  of  my  fathers.' 

"  The  man  read  the  whole  story  until  it  was 
ended.  Then  he  closed  the  book,  and  he  said, 
'  My  friends,  Naboth  has  a  vineyard  in  this  land, 
and  in  it  there  is  much  gold ;  and  Ahab  has  de- 
sired to  have  it  that  the  wealth  may  be  his.' 

"  And  he  put  the  old  book  aside,  and  he  took 
up  another  which  was  written  yesterday.  And 
the  men  and  women  whispered  one  to  another, 
even  in  the  church,  *  Is  not  that  the  Blue  Book 
Report  of  the  Select  Committee  of  the  Cape 
Parliament  on  the  Jameson  raid?' 

"  And  the  man  said,  '  Friends,  the  first  story 
I  have  read  you  is  one  of  the  oldest  stories  of 
the  world ;  the  story  I  am  about  to  read  you 
is  one  of  the  newest.  Truth  is  not  more  truth 
because  it  is  three  thousand  years  old,  nor  is  it 
less  truth  because  it  is  of  yesterday.  All  books 
which  throw  light  on  truth  are  God's  books, 
therefore  I  shall  read  to  you  from  the  pages  be- 


56         TROOPER  PETER   HALKET 

fore  me.  Shall  the  story  of  Ahab  king  of 
Samaria  profit  us  when  we  know  not  the  story 
of  the  Ahabs  of  our  day;  and  the  Naboths  of 
our  land  be  stoned  while  we  sit  at  ease  ? ' 
And  he  read  to  them  portions  of  that  book. 
And  certain  rich  men  and  women  rose  up  and 
went  out  even  while  he  spoke,  and  his  wife  also 
went  out. 

"  And  when  the  service  was  ended  and  the 
man  returned  to  his  home,  his  wife  came  to  him 
weeping ;  and  she  said :  '  Did  you  see  how  some 
of  the  most  wealthy  and  important  people  got 
up  and  went  out  this  morning?  Why  did  you 
preach  such  a  sermon,  when  we  were  just  going 
to  have  the  new  wing  added  to  our  house,  and 
you  thought  they  were  going  to  raise  your  sal- 
ary? You  have  not  a  single  Boer  in  your  con- 
gregation !  Why  need  you  say  the  Chartered 
Company  raid  on  Johannesburg  was  wrong?' 

"  He  said :  '  My  wife,  if  I  believe  that  certain 
men  whom  we  have  raised  on  high,  and  to  whom 
we  have  given  power,  have  done  a  cowardly 
wrong,  shall  I  not  say  it?' 


OF  MASHON ALAND  57 

"  And  she  said :  '  Yes,  and  only  a  little  while 
ago,  when  Rhodes  was  licking  the  dust  off  the 
Boers'  feet  that  he  might  keep  them  from  sus- 
pecting while  he  got  ready  this  affair,  then  you 
attacked  both  Rhodes  and  the  Bond1  for  trying  to 
pass  a  bill  for  flogging  the  niggers,  and  we  lost 
fifty  pounds  we  might  have  got  for  the  church.' 

"  And  he  said :  '  My  wife,  cannot  God  be 
worshipped  as  well  under  the  dome  of  the 
heaven  He  made  as  in  a  golden  palace?  Shall 
a  man  keep  silence,  when  he  sees  oppression,  to 
earn  money  for  God  ?  If  I  have  defended  the 
black  man  when  I  believed  him  to  be  wronged, 
shall  I  not  also  defend  the  white  man,  my  flesh- 
brother?  Shall  we  speak  when  one  man  is 
wronged  and  not  when  it  is  another? ' 

"  And  she  said :  '  Yes,  but  you  have  your 
family  and  yourself  to  think  of!  Why  are  you 
always  in  opposition  to  the  people  who  could 
do  something  for  us?  You  are  only  loved  by 
the  poor.  If  it  is  necessary  for  you  to  attack 
some  one,  why  don't  you  attack  the  Jews  for 

1  Bond,  the  Afrikander  Bond,  the  organized  Dutch  political 
party  in  Cape  Colony,  through  whom  Mr.  Rhodes  worked,  and 
by  whom  he  was  backed. 


58         TROOPER  PETER   HALKET 

killing  Christ,  or  Herod,  or  Pontius  Pilate? 
Why  don't  you  leave  alone  the  men  who  are  in 
power  to-day,  and  who  with  their  money  can 
crush  you?' 

"  And  he  said :  '  Oh,  my  wife,  those  Jews  and 
Herod  and  Pontius  Pilate  are  long  dead.  If  I 
should  preach  of  them,  now  would  it  help 
them?  Would  it  save  one  living  thing  from 
their  clutches?  The  past  is  dead  —  it  lives 
only  for  us  to  learn  from.  The  present,  the 
present  only,  is  ours  to  work  in,  and  the  future 
ours  to  create.  Is  all  the  gold  of  Johannesburg, 
or  are  all  the  diamonds  of  Kimberley  worth, 
that  one  Christian  man  should  fall  by  the  hand 
of  his  fellows  —  aye,  or  one  heathen  brother?  ' 

"  And  she  answered :  '  Oh,  that  is  all  very 
well.  If  you  were  a  really  eloquent  preacher, 
and  could  draw  hundreds  of  men  about  you, 
and  in  time  form  a  great  party  with  you  at  its 
head,  I  should  n't  mind  what  you  said.  But 
you,  with  your  little  figure  and  your  little 
voice,  who  will  ever  follow  you !  You  will  be 
left  all  alone ;  that  is  all  the  good  that  will  ever 
come  to  you  through  it.' 


OF   MASHONALAND  59 

"  And  he  said :  '  Oh,  my  wife,  have  I  not 
waited  and  watched,  and  hoped  that  they  who 
are  nobler  and  stronger  than  I,  all  over  this 
land,  would  lift  up  their  voices  and  speak?  — 
and  there  is  only  a  deadly  silence.  Here  and 
there  one  has  dared  to  speak  aloud,  but  the  rest 
whisper  behind  the  hand.  One  says,  "  My  son 
has  a  post :  he  would  lose  it  if  I  spoke  loud ;  " 
and  another  says,  "  I  have  a  promise  of  land ;  " 
and  another,  "  I  am  socially  intimate  with  these 
men,  and  should  lose  my  social  standing  if  I  let 
my  voice  be  heard."  Oh,  my  wife,  our  land, 
our  goodly  land,  which  we  had  hoped  would  be 
free  and  strong  among  the  peoples  of  earth,  is 
rotten  and  honeycombed  with  the  tyranny  of 
gold  !  We,*who  had  hoped  to  stand  first  in  the 
Anglo-Saxon  sisterhood,  for  justice  and  free- 
dom, are  not  even  fit  to  stand  last.  Do  I  not 
know  only  too  bitterly  how  weak  is  my  voice, 
and  that  that  which  I  can  do  is  as  nothing?  But 
shall  I  remain  silent?  Shall  the  glow-worm  re- 
fuse to  give  its  light,  because  it  is  not  a  star  set 
up  on  high?  shall  the  broken  stick  refuse  to 


60         TROOPER  PETER   HALKET 

burn  and  warm  one  frozen  man's  hands,  be- 
cause it  is  not  a  beacon  light  flaming  across  the 
earth?  Ever  a  voice  is  behind  my  shoulder 
that  whispers  to  me :  "  Why  break  your  head 
against  a  stone  wall?  Leave  this  work  to  the 
greater  and  larger  men  of  your  people  ;  they  who 
will  do  it  better  than  you  can  do  it !  Why  break 
your  heart  when  life  could  be  so  fair  to  you  ? " 
But  oh,  my  wife,  the  strong  men  are  silent ;  and 
shall  I  not  speak,  though  I  know  my  power  is 
as  nothing?' 

"  He  laid  his  head  upon  his  hands. 

"  And  she  said,  '  I  cannot  understand  you. 
When  I  come  home  and  tell  you  that  this  man 
drinks,  or  that  that  woman  has  got  into  trouble, 
you  always  answer  me,  "  Wife,  what  business  is 
it  of  ours,  if  so  be  that  we  cannot  help  them?" 
A  little  innocent  gossip  offends  you ;  and  you 
go  to  visit  people,  and  treat  them  as  your 
friends,  into  whose  house  I  would  not  go.  Yet 
when  the  richest  and  strongest  men  in  the  land, 
who  could  crush  you  with  their  money,  as  a 
boy  crushes  a  fly  between  his  finger  and 


OF   MASHONALAND  61 

thumb,  take  a  certain  course,  you  stand   and 
oppose  them.' 

"  And  he  said :  '  My  wife,  with  the  sins  of  the 
private  man,  what  have  I  to  do,  if  so  be  I  have 
not  led  him  into  them?  Am  I  guilty?  I  have 
enough  to  do  looking  after  my  own  sins.  The 
sin  that  a  man  sins  against  himself  is  his  alone, 
not  mine ;  the  sin  that  a  man  sins  against  his 
fellows  is  his  and  theirs,  not  mine ;  but  the  sins 
that  a  man  sins,  in  that  he  is  taken  up  by 
the  hands  of  a  people  and  set  up  on  high, 
and  whose  hand  they  have  armed  with  their 
sword,  whose  power  to  strike  is  their  power  — 
his  sins  are  theirs ;  there  is  no  man  so  small  in 
the  whole  nation  that  he  dare  say,  "  I  have 
no  responsibility  for  this  man's  action."  We 
armed  him,  we  raised  him,  we  strengthened 
him,  and  the  evil  he  accomplishes  is  more  ours 
than  his.  If  this  man's  end  in  South  Africa 
should  be  accomplished,  and  the  day  should 
come  when,  from  the  Zambesi  to  the  sea,  white 
man  should  fly  at  white  man's  throat,  and  every 
man's  heart  burn  with  bitterness  against  his  fel- 


62         TROOPER  PETER   HALKET 

low,  and  the  land  be  bathed  with  blood  as  rain, 
—  shall  I  then  dare  to  pray,  who  have  now 
feared  to  speak?  Do  not  think  I  wish  for  pun- 
ishment upon  these  men.  Let  them  take  the 
millions  they  have  wrung  out  of  this  land,  and 
go  to  the  lands  of  their  birth;  and  live  in 
wealth,  luxury,  and  joy ;  but  let  them  leave  this 
land  they  have  tortured  and  ruined.  Let  them 
keep  the  money  they  have  made  here;  we  may 
be  the  poorer  for  it,  but  they  cannot  then 
crush  our  freedom  with  it.  Shall  I  ask  my 
God  Sunday  by  Sunday  to  brood  across  the 
land,  and  bind  all  its  children's  hearts  in  a  close- 
knit  fellowship ;  —  yet,  when  I  see  its  people 
betrayed,  and  their  jawbone  broken  by  a  stroke 
from  the  hand  of  gold;  when  I  see  freedom 
passing  from  us,  and  the  whole  land  being 
grasped  by  the  golden  claw,  so  that  the  genera- 
tion after  us  shall  be  born  without  freedom,  to 
labor  for  the  men  who  have  clasped  all,  —  shall  I 
hold  my  peace?  The  Boer  and  the  Englishman 
who  have  been  in  this  land  have  not  always 
loved  mercy,  nor  have  they  always  sought  after 


OF   MASHONALAND  63 

justice;  but  the  little  finger  of  the  speculator 
and  monopolist  who  are  devouring  this  land 
will  be  thicker  on  the  backs  of  the  children  of 
this  land,  black  and  white,  than  the  loins  of  the 
Dutchmen  and  Englishmen  who  have  been.' 

"  And  she  said :  '  I  have  heard  it  said  that  it 
was  our  duty  to  sacrifice  ourselves  for  the  men 
and  women  living  in  the  world  at  the  same 
time  as  ourselves;  but  I  never  before  heard 
that  we  had  to  sacrifice  ourselves  for  people 
that  are  not  born.  What  are  they  to  you  ?  You 
will  be  dust,  and  lying  in  your  grave,  before 
that  time  comes.  If  you  believe  in  God,'  she 
said,  '  why  cannot  you  leave  it  to  him  to  bring 
good  out  of  all  this  evil?  Does  he  need  you  to 
be  made  a  martyr  of?  or  will  the  world  be  lost 
without  JVM?' 

"  He  said :  '  Wife,  if  my  right  hand  be  in  a 
fire,  shall  I  not  pull  it  out?  Shall  I  say,  "  God 
may  bring  good  out  of  this  evil,"  and  let  it  burn? 
That  Unknown  that  lies  beyond  us  we  know  of 
no  otherwise  than  through  its  manifestation  in 
our  own  hearts ;  it  works  no  otherwise  upon  the 


64         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

sons  of  men  than  through  man.  And  shall  I 
feel  no  bond  binding  me  to  the  men  to  come, 
and  desire  no  good  or  beauty  for  them  —  I,  who 
am  what  I  am,  and  enjoy  what  I  enjoy,  because 
for  countless  ages  in  the  past  men  have  lived 
and  labored,  who  lived  not  for  themselves  alone, 
and  counted  no  costs?  Would  the  great  statue, 
the  great  poem,  the  great  reform  ever  be  ac- 
complished, if  men  counted  the  cost,  and 
created  for  their  own  lives  alone?  And  no 
man  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man  dieth  to  him- 
self. You  cannot  tell  me  not  to  love  the  men 
who  shall  be  after  me ;  a  soft  voice  within  me,  I 
know  not  what,  cries  out  ever,  "  Live  for  them, 
as  for  your  own  children."  When  in  the  circle 
of  my  own  small  life  all  is  dark  and  I  despair, 
hope  springs  up  in  me  when  I  remember  that 
something  nobler  and  fairer  may  spring  up  in 
the  spot  where  I  now  stand.' 

"  And  she  said :  '  You  want  to  put  every  one 
against  us !  The  other  women  will  not  call  on 
me;  and  our  church  is  more  and  more  made 
up  of  poor  people.  Money  holds  by  money. 


OF   MASHONALAND  65 

If  your  congregation  were  Dutchmen,  I  know 
you  would  be  always  preaching  to  love  the 
Englishman,  and  be  kind  to  niggers.  If  they 
were  Kaffirs,  you  would  always  be  telling  them 
to  help  white  men.  You  will  never  be  on  the 
side  of  the  people  who  can  do  anything  for  us ! 
You  know  the  offer  we  had  from  — ' 

"  And  he  said :  '  Oh,  my  wife,  what  are  the 
Boer,  and  the  Russian,  and  the  Turk  to  me? 
Am  I  responsible  for  their  action?  It  is  my 
own  nation,  mine,  which  I  love  as  a  man  loves 
his  own  soul,  whose  acts  touch  me.  I  would 
that  wherever  our  flag  was  planted  the  feeble 
or  oppressed  peoples  of  earth  might  gather 
under  it,  saying,  "  Under  this  banner  is  free- 
dom and  justice  which  knows  no  race  or  color." 
I  wish  that  on  our  banner  were  blazoned  in 
large  letters  "Justice  and  Mercy''  and  that  in 
every  new  land  which  our  feet  touch,  every  son 
among  us  might  see  ever  blazoned  above  his 
head  that  banner,  and  below  it  the  great  order, 
"By  this  sign,  Conquer!"  and  that  the  pirate 
flag  which  some  men  now  wave  in  its  place 
5 


66         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

may  be  torn  down  and  furled  forever!  Shall 
I  condone  the  action  of  some,  simply  because 
they  happen  to  be  of  my  own  race,  when  in 
Bushman  or  Hottentot  I  would  condemn  it? 
Shall  men  belonging  to  one  of  the  mightiest 
races  of  earth  creep  softly  on  their  bellies  to 
attack  an  unwarned  neighbor,  when  even  the 
Kaffir  has  again  and  again  given  notice  of  war, 
saying,  "Be  ready;  on  such  and  such  a  day  I 
come  to  fight  you  "  ?  Is  England's  power  so 
broken  and  our  race  so  enfeebled  that  we  dare 
no  longer  to  proclaim  war,  but  must  creep 
silently  upon  our  bellies  in  the  dark  to  stab, 
like  a  subject  people  to  whom  no  other  course 
is  open?  These  men  are  English;  but  not 
English-men.  When  the  men  of  our  race  fight, 
they  go  to  war  with  the  blazoned  flag  and  the 
loud  trumpet  before  them.  It  is  because  I  am 
an  Englishman  that  these  things  crush  me. 
Better  that  ten  thousand  of  us  should  lie  dead 
and  defeated  on  one  battle-field,  fighting  for 
some  great  cause,  and  my  own  sons  among 
them,  than  that  those  twelve  poor  boys  should 


OF   MASHONALAND  67 

have  fallen  at  Doornkop,  fighting  to  fill  up  the 
pockets  of  those  already  o'er  heavy  with  gold.' 

"  And  she  said :  '  You,  what  does  it  matter 
what  you  feel  or  think  ?  You  will  never  be  able 
to  do  anything ! ' 

"  And  he  said :  '  Oh,  my  wife,  stand  by  me ; 
do  not  crush  me.  For  me  in  this  matter  there 
is  no  path  but  one  on  which  light  shines.' 

"  And  she  said :  '  You  are  very  unkind ;  you 
don't  care  what  the  people  say  about  us ! '  and 
she  wept  bitterly,  and  went  out  of  the  room. 
But  as  soon  as  the  door  was  shut,  she  dried  her 
tears,  and  she  said  to  herself:  'Now  he  will 
never,  never  dare  to  preach  such  a  sermon 
again.  He  dares  never  oppose  me  when  once 
I  have  set  down  my  foot.' 

"And  the  man  spoke  to  no  one,  and  went 
out  alone  into  the  veld.  All  the  afternoon 
he  walked  up  and  down  among  the  sand  and 
low  bushes;  and  I  walked  there  beside  him. 

"  And  when  the  evening  came,  he  went  back 
to  his  chapel.  Many  were  absent,  but  the 
elders  sat  in  their  places,  and  his  wife  also 


68         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

was  there.  And  the  light  shone  on  the  empty 
benches.  And  when  the  time  came  he  opened 
the  old  book  of  the  Jews,  and  he  turned  the 
leaves  and  read :  '  If  thou  forbear  to  deliver 
them  that  are  drawn  unto  death,  and  those 
that  are  ready  to  be  slain;  if  thou  sayest, 
Behold,  we  knew  it  not;  doth  not  he  that 
pondereth  the  heart  consider  it?  and  he  that 
keepeth  thy  soul,  doth  he  not  know  it?' 

"  And  he  said :  '  This  morning  we  considered 
the  evils  this  land  is  suffering  under  at  the 
hands  of  men  whose  aim  is  the  attainment 
of  wealth  and  power.  To-night  we  shall  look 
at  our  own  share  in  the  matter.  I  think  we 
shall  realize  that  with  us,  and  not  with  the 
men  we  have  lifted  up  on  high,  lies  the  con- 
demnation.' Then  his  wife  rose  and  went  out, 
and  others  followed  her,  —  and  the  little  man's 
voice  rolled  among  the  empty  benches ;  but  he 
spoke  on. 

"And  when  the  service  was  over  he  went 
out  No  elder  came  to  the  porch  to  greet 
him ;  but  as  he  stood  there,  one  —  he  saw  not 


OF  MASHONALAND  69 

whom  —  slipped  a  leaflet  into  his  hand.  He 
held  it  up,  and  read  in  the  lamplight  what 
was  written  on  it  in  pencil.  He  crushed  it 
up  in  his  hand,  as  a  man  crushes  that  which 
has  run  a  poisonous  sting  into  him;  then  he 
dropped  it  on  the  earth  as  a  man  drops  that 
he  would  forget.  A  fine  drizzly  rain  was  falling, 
and  he  walked  up  the  street  with  his  arms  folded 
behind  him,  and  his  head  bent.  The  people 
walked  up  the  other  side ;  and  it  seemed  to  him 
he  was  alone.  But  I  walked  behind  him." 

"And  then?"  asked  Peter,  seeing  that  the 
stranger  was  silent;  "what  happened  to  him 
after  that?" 

"That  was  only  last  Sunday,"  said  the  stranger. 

There  was  silence  again  for  some  seconds. 

Then  Peter  said,  "  Well,  anyhow,  at  least  he 
didn't  die!" 

The  stranger  crossed  his  hands  upon  his 
knees.  "  Peter  Simon  Halket,"  he  said,  "  it  is 
easier  for  a  man  to  die  than  to  stand  alone. 
He  who  can  stand  alone  can  also,  when  the 
need  be,  die." 


70         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

Peter  looked  up  wistfully  into  the  stranger's 
face.  "  I  should  not  like  to  die  myself,"  he 
said,  "not  yet.  I  shall  not  be  twenty-one  till 
next  birthday.  I  should  like  to  see  life  first" 

The  stranger  made  no  answer. 

Presently  Peter  said,  "Are  all  the  men  of 
your  company  poor  men?" 

The  stranger  waited  a  while  before  he  an- 
swered; then  he  said:  "There  have  been 
rich  men  who  have  desired  to  join  us.  There 
was  a  young  man  once;  and  when  he  heard 
the  conditions,  he  went  away  sorrowful,  for 
he  had  great  possessions." 

There  was  silence  again  for  a  while. 

" Is  it  long  since  your  company  was  started?  " 
asked  Peter. 

"  There  is  no  man  living  who  can  conceive  of 
its  age,"  said  the  stranger.  "  Even  here  on  this 
earth  it  began,  when  these  hills  were  young  and 
these  lichens  had  hardly  shown  their  stains  upon 
the  rocks,  and  man  still  raised  himself  upwards 
with  difficulty  because  the  sinews  in  his  thighs 
were  weak.  In  those  days,  which  men  reck  not 


OF   MASHON ALAND  71 

of  now,  man,  when  he  hungered,  fed  on  the 
flesh  of  his  fellow-man  and  found  it  sweet.  Yet 
even  in  those  days  it  came  to  pass  that  there 
was  one  whose  head  was  higher  than  her  fellows 
and  her  thought  keener,  and,  as  she  picked  the 
flesh  from  a  human  skull,  she  pondered.  And 
so  it  came  to  pass  the  next  night,  when  men 
were  gathered  around  the  fire  ready  to  eat, 
that  she  stole  away,  and  when  they  went  to  the 
tree  where  the  victim  was  bound,  they  found 
him  gone.  And  they  cried  one  to  another: 
'  She,  only  she,  has  done  this,  who  has  always 
said,  "I  like  not  the  taste  of  man-flesh;  men 
are  too  like  me;  I  cannot  eat  them."  She  is 
mad,'  they  cried ;  '  let  us  kill  her ! '  So,  in  those 
dim,  misty  times  that  men  reck  not  of  now,  that 
they  hardly  believe  in,  that  woman  died.  But 
into  the  heads  of  certain  men  and  women  a  new 
thought  had  taken  root;  they  said:  'We  also 
will  not  eat  of  her.  There  is  something  evil  in 
the  taste  of  human  flesh.'  And  ever  after,  when 
the  fleshpots  were  filled  with  man-flesh,  these 
stood  aside,  and  half  the  tribe  ate  human  flesh 


72         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

and  half  not;  then,  as  the  years  passed,  none 
ate. 

"  Even  in  those  days,  which  men  reck  not  of 
now,  when  men  fell  easily  upon  their  hands  and 
knees,  they  were  of  us  on  the  earth.  And,  if 
you  would  learn  a  secret,  even  before  man  trod 
here,  in  the  days  when  the  dicynodont  bent 
yearningly  over  her  young,  and  the  river-horse 
which  you  find  now  nowhere  on  the  earth's  sur- 
face, save  buried  in  stone,  called  with  love  to 
his  mate;  and  the  birds  whose  footprints  are 
on  the  rocks  flew  in  the  sunshine,  calling  joy- 
fully to  one  another;  —  even  in  those  days 
when  man  was  not,  the  fore-dawn  of  this  king- 
dom had  broken  on  the  earth.  And  still,  as 
the  sun  rises  and  sets  and  the  planets  journey 
round,  we  grow  and  grow." 

The  stranger  rose  from  the  fire,  and  stood 
upright;  around  him,  and  behind  him,  the 
darkness  stood  out. 

"  All  earth  is  ours.  And  the  day  shall  come 
when  the  stars,  looking  down  on  this  little  world, 
shall  see  no  spot  where  the  soil  is  moist  and 


OF   MASHONALAND  73 

dark  with  the  blood  of  man  shed  by  his  fellow- 
man  :  the  sun  shall  rise  in  the  east  and  set  in  the 
west,  and  shed  his  light  across  this  little  globe ; 
and  nowhere  shall  he  see  man  crushed  by  his 
fellows.  '  And  they  shall  beat  their  swords  into 
ploughshares,  and  their  spears  into  pruning- 
hooks:  nation  shall  not  lift  up  sword  against 
nation,  neither  shall  they  learn  war  any  more.' 
'  And  instead  of  the  thorn  shall  come  up  the  fir- 
tree,  and  instead  of  the  brier  shall  come  up  the 
myrtle-tree : '  and  man  shall  nowhere  crush  man 
on  all  the  holy  earth.  To-morrow's  sun  shall 
rise,"  said  the  stranger,  "  and  it  shall  flood  these 
dark  koppjes  with  light,  and  the  rocks  shall 
glint  in  it  Not  more  certain  is  that  rising  than 
the  coming  of  that  day.  And  I  say  to  you  that 
even  here,  in  the  land  where  now  we  stand, 
where  to-day  the  cries  of  the  wounded  and  the 
curses  of  revenge  ring  in  the  air,  even  here,  in 
this  land  where  man  creeps  on  his  belly  to 
wound  his  fellow  in  the  dark,  and  where  an  acre 
of  gold  is  worth  a  thousand  souls,  and  a  reef  of 
shining  dirt  is  worth  half  a  people,  and  the  vul- 


74         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

tures  are  heavy  with  man's  flesh  —  even  here 
that  day  shall  come.  I  tell  you,  Peter  Simon 
Halket,  that  here  on  the  spot  where  now  we 
stand  shall  be  raised  a  temple.  Man  shall  not 
gather  in  it  to  worship  that  which  divides ;  but 
they  shall  stand  in  it  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
white  man  with  black,  and  the  stranger  with  the 
inhabitant  of  the  land ;  and  the  place  shall  be 
holy ;  for  men  shall  say,  '  Are  we  not  brethren 
and  the  sons  of  one  father? ' ' 

Peter  Halket  looked  upward  silently.  And 
the  stranger  said :  "  Certain  men  slept  upon  a 
plain,  and  the  night  was  chill  and  dark.  And, 
as  they  slept,  at  that  hour  when  night  is  dark- 
est, one  stirred.  Far  off  to  the  eastward, 
through  his  half-closed  eyelids,  he  saw,  as  it 
were,  one  faint  line,  thin  as  a  hair's  width,  that 
edged  the  hill  tops.  And  he  whispered  in  the 
darkness  to  his  fellows,  'The  dawn  is  coming.' 
But  they,  with  fast-closed  eyelids  murmured, 
'  He  lies ;  there  is  no  dawn.* 

"  Nevertheless,  day  broke." 

The  stranger  was  silent.     The  fire  burnt  up 


OF   MASHONALAND  75 

in  red  tongues  of  flame,  that  neither  flickered 
nor  flared  in  the  still  night  air.  Peter  Halket 
crept  near  to  the  stranger. 

"  When  will  that  time  be  ?  "  he  whispered ; 
"in  a  thousand  years'  time?" 

And  the  stranger  answered,  "A  thousand 
years  are  but  as  our  yesterday's  journey,  or  as 
our  watch  to-night,  which  draws  already  to  its 
close.  See,  piled,  these  rocks  on  which  we  now 
stand.  The  ages  have  been  young  and  they 
have  grown  old  since  they  have  lain  here. 
Half  that  time  shall  not  pass  before  that  time 
comes,  —  I  have  seen  its  dawning  already  in 
the  hearts  of  men." 

Peter  moved  nearer,  so  that  he  almost  knelt 
at  the  stranger's  feet :  his  gun  lay  on  the  ground 
at  the  other  side  of  the  fire. 

"  I  would  like  to  be  one  of  your  men,"  he 
said ;  "  I  am  tired  of  belonging  to  the  Chartered 
Company." 

The  stranger  looked  down  gently ;  "  Peter 
Simon  Halket,"  he  said,  "  can  you  bear  the 
weight?" 


76         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

And  Peter  said,  "  Give  me  work,  that  I  may 
try." 

There  was  silence  for  a  time ;  then  the  stran- 
ger said :  "  Peter  Simon  Halket,  take  a  message 
to  England,"  —  Peter  Halket  started  —  "  go  to 
that  great  people  and  cry  aloud  to  it :  *  Where 
is  the  sword  was  given  into  your  hand,  that  with 
it  you  might  enforce  justice,  and  deal  out 
mercy?  How  came  you  to  give  it  up  into  the 
hands  of  men  whose  search  is  gold,  whose 
thirst  is  wealth,  to  whom  men's  souls  and  bodies 
are  counters  in  a  game?  How  came  you  to 
give  up  the  folk  that  were  given  into  your 
hands,  into  the  hand  of  the  speculator  and  the 
gamester,  as  though  they  were  dumb  beasts 
who  might  be  bought  or  sold? 

" '  Take  back  your  sword,  Great  People,  — 
but  wipe  it  first,  lest  some  of  the  gold  and 
blood  stick  to  your  hand. 

" '  What  is  this  I  see !  —  the  sword  of  the 
Great  People,  transformed  to  burrow  earth  for 
gold,  as  the  snouts  of  swine  for  earth  nuts! 
Have  you  no  other  use  for  it,  Great  Folk? 


OF  MASHONALAND  77 

" '  Take  back  your  sword  ;  and,  when  you  have 
thoroughly  cleansed  it  and  wiped  it  of  the  blood 
and  mire,  then  raise  it  to  set  free  the  oppressed 
of  other  climes. 

"  '  Great  Prince's  Daughter,  take  heed !  You 
put  your  sword  into  the  hands  of  recreant 
knights;  they  will  dull  its  edge  and  mar  its 
brightness,  and,  when  your  hour  of  need  comes 
and  you  would  put  it  into  other  hands,  you  will 
find  its  edge  chipped  and  its  point  broken. 
Take  heed !  Take  heed  !  * 

"  Cry  to  the  wise  men  of  England :  '  You,  who 
in  peace  and  calm  in  shaded  chambers  ponder 
on  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  and  take  all 
knowledge  for  your  province,  have  you  no  time 
to  think  of  this?  To  whom  has  England  given 
her  power  ?  How  do  the  men  wield  it  who  have 
filched  it  from  her?  Say  not,  —  What  have  we 
to  do  with  folk  across  the  waters  ;  have  we  not 
matter  enough  for  thought  in  our  own  land? 
Where  the  brain  of  a  nation  has  no  time  to  go, 
there  should  its  hands  never  be  sent  to  labor: 
where  the  power  of  a  people  goes,  there  must 


78         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

its  intellect  and  knowledge  go,  to  guide  it.  Oh, 
you  who  sit  at  ease,  studying  past  and  future,  — 
and  forget  the  present,  —  you  have  no  right  to 
sit  at  ease,  knowing  nothing  of  the  working  of 
the  powers  you  have  armed  and  sent  to  work 
on  men  afar.  Where  is  your  nation's  sword, 
you  men  of  thought?' 

"  Cry  to  the  women  of  England :  '  You 
who  repose  in  sumptuous  houses,  with  children 
on  your  knees,  think  not  it  is  only  the  rustling 
of  the  soft  draped  curtains,  or  the  whistling  of 
the  wind,  you  hear.  Listen!  May  it  not  be 
the  far-off  cry  of  those  your  sword  governs, 
creeping  towards  you  across  wide  oceans  till 
it  pierces  even  into  your  inmost  sanctuary? 
Listen ! 

" '  For,  the  womanhood  of  a  dominant  people 
has  not  accomplished  all  its  labor  when  it  has 
borne  its  children  and  fed  them  at  its  breast : 
there  cries  to  it  also  from  over  seas  and  across 
continents  the  voice  of  the  child-peoples  — 
"  Mother-heart,  stand  for  us !  "  It  would  be 
better  for  you  that  your  wombs  should  be  bar- 


OF   MASHONALAND  79 

ren  and  that  your  race  should  die  out,  than 
that  you  should  listen,  and  give  no  answer.' " 

The  stranger  lifted  his  hands  upward  as  he 
spoke,  and  Peter  saw  there  were  the  marks  of 
old  wounds  in  both. 

"  Cry  aloud  to  the  working  men  and  women 
of  England:  'You  who  for  ages  cried  out  be- 
cause the  heel  of  your  masters  was  heavy  on 
you,  and  who  have  said,  "  We  curse  the  kings 
that  sit  at  ease,  and  care  not  who  oppresses  the 
folk,  so  their  coffers  be  full  and  their  bellies  sat- 
isfied, and  they  be  not  troubled  with  the  trouble 
of  rule."  You  who  have  taken  the  King's 
rule  from  him  and  sit  enthroned  within  his  seat, 
—  is  his  sin  not  yours  to-day?  If  men  should 
add  but  one  hour  to  your  day's  labor,  or  make  but 
one  fraction  dearer  the  bread  you  eat,  would  you 
not  rise  up  as  one  man?  Yet,  what  is  dealt  out 
to  men  beyond  seas  whom  you  rule,  wounds 
you  not.  Nay,  have  you  not  sometimes  said  as 
kings  of  old  ?  —  "It  matters  not  who  holds  our 
sword,  maurauder  or  speculator:  so  he  calls  it 
ours,  we  must  cloak  up  the  evil  it  has  done !  " 


8o         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

Think  you  no  other  curses  rise  to  heaven  but 
yours?  Where  is  your  sword?  Into  whose 
hand  has  it  fallen?  Take  it  quickly  and  cleanse 
it!'" 

Peter  Halket  crouched,  looking  upwards; 
then  he  cried :  "  Master,  I  cannot  give  that  mes- 
sage; I  am  a  poor  unlearn'd  man.  And  if  I 
should  go  to  England  and  cry  aloud,  they  would 
say,  '  Who  is  this  who  comes  preaching  to  a 
great  people?  Is  not  his  mother  with  us,  and 
a  washerwoman?  and  was  not  his  father  a 
day  laborer  at  two  shillings  a  day? '  and  they 
would  laugh  me  to  scorn.  And,  in  truth,  the 
message  is  so  long  I  could  not  well  remember 
it;  give  me  other  work  to  do." 

And  the  stranger  said :  "  Take  a  message  to 
the  men  and  women  of  this  land.  Go,  from  the 
Zambesi  to  the  sea,  and  cry  to  its  white  men 
and  women,  and  say :  '  I  saw  a  wide  field,  and 
in  it  were  two  fair  beasts.  Wide  was  the  field 
about  them,  and  rich  was  the  earth  with  sweet- 
scented  herbs,  and  so  abundant  was  the  pastur- 
age that  hardly  might  they  consume  all  that 


OF   MASHONALAND  81 

grew  about  them ;  and  the  two  were  like,  one 
to  another,  for  they  were  the  sons  of  one  mother. 
And,  as  I  looked,  I  saw,  far  off,  to  the  north- 
ward, a  speck  within  the  sky,  so  small  it  was,  and 
so  high  it  was,  that  the  eye  scarce  might  mark 
it.  Then  it  came  nearer,  and  hovered  over  the 
spot  where  the  two  beasts  fed,  —  and  its  neck 
was  bare,  and  its  beak  was  hooked,  and  its  talons 
were  long,  and  its  wings  strong.  And  it  hov- 
ered over  the  field  where  the  two  beasts  were ; 
and  I  saw  it  settle  down  upon  a  great  white 
stone ;  and  it  waited.  And  I  saw  more  specks 
to  the  northward,  and  more  and  more  came  on- 
ward to  join  him  who  sat  upon  the  stone.  And 
some  hovered  over  the  beasts,  and  some  sharp- 
ened their  beaks  on  the  stones ;  and  some  walked 
in  and  out  between  the  beasts'  legs.  And  I  saw 
that  they  were  waiting  for  something. 

" '  Then  he  who  first  came  flew  from  one  of 
the  beasts  to  the  other,  and  sat  upon  their 
necks,  and  put  his  beak  within  their  ears.  And 
he  flew  from  one  to  the  other  and  flapped  his 
wings  in  their  faces  till  the  beasts  were  blinded, 
6 


82         TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

and  each  believed  it  was  his  fellow  who  attacked 
him.  And  they  fell  to,  and  fought ;  they  gored 
one  another's  sides  till  the  field  was  red  with 
blood  and  the  ground  shook  beneath  them. 
The  birds  sat  by  and  watched ;  and  when  the 
blood  flowed  they  walked  round  and  round. 
And  when  the  strength  of  the  two  beasts  was 
exhausted  they  fell  to  earth.  Then  the  birds 
settled  down  upon  them,  and  feasted,  till  their 
maws  were  full,  and  their  long  bare  necks  were 
wet;  and  they  stood  with  their  beaks  deep  in 
the  entrails  of  the  two  dead  beasts,  and  looked 
out  with  their  keen  bright  eyes  from  above 
them.  And  he  who  was  king  of  all  plucked  out 
the  eyes,  and  fed  on  the  hearts  of  the  dead 
beasts.  And  when  his  maw  was  full,  so  that  he 
could  eat  no  more,  he  sat  on  his  stone  hard  by 
and  flapped  his  great  wings.' 

"  Peter  Simon  Halket,  cry  to  the  white  men 
and  women  of  South  Africa:  'You  have  a 
goodly  land ;  you  and  your  children's  children 
shall  scarce  fill  it,  though  you  should  stretch 
out  your  arms  to  welcome  each  stranger  who 


OF   MASHONALAND  83 

comes  to  live  and  labor  with  you.  You  are  the 
twin  branches  of  one  tree ;  you  are  the  sons  of 
one  mother.  Is  this  goodly  land  not  wide 
enough  for  you,  that  you  should  rend  each 
other's  flesh  at  the  bidding  of  those  who 
will  wet  their  beaks  within  both  your  vitals  ? 
Look  up,  see;  they  circle  in  the  air  above 
you ! ' " 

Almost  Peter  Halket  started  and  looked  up- 
ward; but  there  was  only  the  black  sky  of 
Mashonaland  over  his  head. 

The  stranger  stood  silent,  looking  downward 
into  the  fire.  Peter  Halket  half  clasped  his 
arms  about  his  knees. 

"  My  master,"  he  cried,  "  how  can  I  take  this 
message  ?  The  Dutchmen  of  South  Africa  will 
not  listen  to  me ;  they  will  say  I  am  an  English- 
man. And  the  Englishmen  will  say :  '  Who 
is  this1  fellow  who  comes  preaching  peace, 
peace,  peace?  Has  he  not  been  a  year  in  the 
country  and  he  has  not  a  share  in  a  single  com- 
pany? Can  anything  he  says  be  worth  hear- 
ing? If  he  were  a  man  of  any  sense  he  would 


84        TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

have  made  five  thousand  pounds  at  least.' 
And  they  will  not  listen  to  me.  Give  me 
another  labor." 

And  the  stranger  said:  "Take  a  message 
to  one  man.  Find  him,  whether  he  sleep  or 
wake,  whether  he  eat  or  drink;  and  say  to 
him :  '  Where  are  the  souls  of  the  men  that 
you  have  bought?' 

"And  if  he  shall  answer  you  and  say:  'I 
bought  no  men's  souls ;  the  souls  that  I  bought 
were  the  souls  of  dogs,'  then  ask  him  this 
question ;  say  to  him,  '  Where  are  the  — ' 

"  And  if  he  cry  out,  '  You  lie,  you  lie !  I 
know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  What  do  I 
know  of  envoys?  Was  I  ever  afraid  of  the 
British  Government?  It  is  all  a  lie!  Then 
question  him  no  further,  but  say :  '  There 
was  a  rush-light  once.  It  flickered  and  flared, 
and  it  guttered  down,  and  went  out  —  and  no 
man  heeded  it ;  it  was  only  a  rush-light 

"  '  And  there  was  a  light  once ;  men  set  it  on 
high  within  a  lighthouse,  that  it  might  yield 
light  to  all  souls  at  sea;  that  afar  off  they 


OF   MASHONALAND  85 

might  see  its  steady  light  and  find  harbor,  and 
escape  the  rocks. 

" '  And  that  light  flickered  and  flared,  as  it 
listed.  It  went  this  way  and  it  went  that ;  it 
burnt  blue,  and  green,  and  red;  now  it  dis- 
appeared altogether,  and  then  it  burnt  up 
again.  And  men,  far  out  at  sea,  kept  their 
eyes  fixed  where  they  knew  the  light  should 
be,  saying,  "We  are  safe;  the  great  light  will 
lead  us  when  we  near  the  rocks. "  And  on  dark 
nights  men  drifted  nearer  and  nearer;  and 
in  the  stillness  of  the  midnight  they  struck 
on  the  lighthouse  rocks  and  went  down  at  its 
feet. 

" '  What,  now,  shall  be  done  to  that  light,  in 
that  it  was  not  a  rush-light;  in  that  it  was  set 
on  high  by  the  hands  of  men,  and  in  that  men 
trusted  it  ?  Shall  it  not  be  put  out  ? ' 

"  And  if  he  shall  answer,  saying,  '  What 
are  men  to  me?  They  are  fools,  all  fools! 
Let  them  die!'  —  tell  him  again  this  story: 
*  There  was  a  streamlet  once;  it  burst  forth 
from  beneath  the  snow  on  a  mountain's  crown; 


86         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

and  the  snow  made  a  cove  over  it.  It  ran  on 
pure,  and  blue,  and  clear  as  the  sky  above  it, 
and  the  banks  of  snow  made  its  cradle.  Then 
it  came  to  a  spot  where  the  snow  ended ;  and 
two  ways  lay  before  it  by  which  it  might  jour- 
ney: one,  on  the  mountain  ridges,  past  rocks 
and  stones,  and  down  long  sunlit  slopes  to  the 
sea;  and  the  other  down  a  chasm.  And  the 
stream  hesitated;  it  twirled  and  purled,  and 
went  this  way  and  went  that.  It  might  have 
been  that  it  would  have  forced  its  way  past 
rocks  and  ridges,  and  along  mountain  slopes, 
and  made  a  path  for  itself  where  no  path  had 
been ;  the  banks  would  have  grown  green,  and 
the  mountain  daisy  would  have  grown  beside 
it;  and  all  night  the  stars  would  have  looked 
at  their  faces  in  it ;  and  down  the  long  sunny 
slopes  the  sun  would  have  played  on  it  by  day ; 
and  the  wood-dove  would  have  built  her  nest 
in  the  trees  beside  it;  and  singing,  singing, 
always  singing,  it  would  have  made  its  way  at 
last  to  the  great  sea,  whose  far-off  call  all 
waters  hear. 


OF   MASHONALAND  87 

" '  But  it  hesitated.  It  might  have  been 
that,  had  but  some  hand  been  there  to  move 
but  one  stone  from  its  path,  it  would  have 
forced  its  way  past  rocks  and  ridges,  and  found 
its  way  to  the  great  sea  —  it  might  have  been ! 
But  no  hand  was  there.  The  streamlet  gathered 
itself  together,  and  (it  might  be  that  it  was 
even  in  its  haste  to  rush  onwards  to  the  sea ! ) 
—  it  made  one  leap  into  the  abyss. 

" '  The  rocks  closed  over  it.  Nine  hundred 
fathoms  deep,  in  a  still,  dark  pool  it  lay;  the 
green  lichen  hung  from  the  rocks.  No  sun- 
light came  there,  and  the  stars  could  not  look 
down  at  night.  The  pool  lay  still  and  silent. 
Then,  because  it  was  alive,  and  could  not 
rest,  it  gathered  its  strength  together;  through 
fallen  earth  and  broken  debris  it  oozed  its  way 
silently  on ;  and  it  crept  out  in  a  deep  valley ; 
the  mountains  closed  it  around.  And  the 
streamlet  laughed  to  itself,  "Ha,  ha!  I  shall 
make  a  great  lake  here ;  a  sea ! "  And  it  oozed, 
and  it  oozed,  and  it  filled  half  the  plain.  But 
no  lake  came,  —  only  a  great  marsh,  —  because 


88         TROOPER   PETER  HALKET 

there  was  no  way  outwards,  and  the  water 
rotted.  The  grass  died  out  along  its  edges; 
and  the  trees  dropped  their  leaves  and  rotted  in 
the  water;  and  the  wood-dove,  who  had  built 
her  nest  there,  flew  up  to  the  mountains,  be- 
cause her  young  ones  died.  And  the  toads  sat 
on  the  stones,  and  dropped  their  spittle  in  the 
water;  and  the  reeds  were  yellow  that  grew 
along  the  edge.  And  at  night,  a  heavy  white 
fog  gathered  over  the  water,  so  that  the  stars 
could  not  see  through  it;  and  by  day  a  fine 
white  mist  hung  over  it,  and  the  sunbeams 
could  not  play  on  it.  And  no  man  knew  that 
once  the  marsh  had  leaped  forth  clear  and  blue 
from  under  a  hood  of  snow  on  the  mountain's 
top;  aye,  and  that  the  turning  of  one  stone 
might  have  caused  that  it  had  run  on  and 
on,  and  mingled  its  song  with  the  sea's  song 
forever. '  " 

The  stranger  was  silent  for  a  while. 

Then  he  said,  "  Should  he  answer  you  and 
say,  '  What  do  I  care !  What  are  coves  and 
mountain  tops  to  me?  Gold  is  real,  and  the 


OF  MASHONALAND  89 

power  to  crush  men  within  my  hand ; '  tell  him 
no  further. 

"But  if  by  some  chance  he  should  listen, 
then  say  this  one  thing  to  him,  clearly  in  the 
ear,  that  he  may  not  fail  to  hear  it :  '  The  morn- 
ing may  break  gray,  and  the  mid-day  be  dark 
and  stormy;  but  the  glory  of  the  evening's 
sunset  may  wash  out  forever  the  remembrance 
of  the  morning's  dulness,  and  the  darkness  of 
the  noon.  So  that  all  men  shall  say,  "  Ah,  for 
the  beauty  of  that  day!  "  For  the  stream 
that  has  once  descended  there  is  no  path 
upwards :  it  is  never  too  late  for  the  soul  of  a 
man.' 

"  And  if  he  should  laugh  and  say :  '  You 
fool,  —  a  man  may  re-make  himself  entirely  be- 
fore twenty,  he  may  re-shape  himself  before 
thirty,  but  after  forty  he  is  fixed,  shall  I,  who 
for  forty-three  years  have  sought  money  and 
power,  seek  for  anything  else  now  ?  You  want 
to  be  Jesus  Christ,  I  suppose !  How  can  I  be 
myself  and  another  man  ? '  Then  answer  him, 
*  Deep  in  the  heart  of  every  son  of  man  lies 


90         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

an  angel;  but  some  have  their  wings  folded. 
Wake  yours !  He  is  larger  and  stronger  than 
another  man's;  mount  up  with  him! ' 

"  But  if  he  curses  you,  and  says :  '  I  have 
eight  millions  of  money,  and  I  care  neither  for 
God  nor  man ! '  —  then  make  no  answer,  but 
stoop  and  write  before  him  —  "  The  stranger 
bent  down  and  wrote  with  his  finger  in  the 
white  ashes  of  the  fire.  Peter  Halket  bent 
forward,  and  he  saw  the  two  words  the  stranger 
had  written. 

The  stranger  said,  "  Say  to  him :  '  Though 
you  should  seek  to  make  that  name  immortal 
in  this  land,  and  should  write  it  in  gold  dust, 
and  set  it  with  diamonds,  and  cement  it  with 
human  blood,  shed  from  the  Zambesi  to  the 
sea  —  yet  —  '  The  stranger  passed  his  foot 
over  the  words;  Peter  Halket  looked  down, 
and  he  saw  only  a  bed  of  smooth  white  ashes 
where  the  name  had  been. 

The  stranger  said,  "And  if  he  should  curse 
yet  further,  and  say,  '  There  is  not  one  man  nor 
woman  in  South  Africa  I  cannot  buy  with  my 


OF  MASHONALAND  91 

money!  When  I  have  the  Transvaal  I  shall 
buy  God  Almighty  himself,  if  I  care  to ! ' 

"Then  say  to  him  this  one  thing  only:  '  Thy 
money  perish  with  thee! '  and  leave  him." 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  a  moment. 
Then  the  stranger  stretched  forth  his  hand. 
"Yet,  in  that  leaving  him,  remember:  It  is 
not  the  act,  but  the  will,  which  marks  the  soul 
of  the  man.  He  who  has  crushed  a  nation  sins 
no  more  than  he  who  rejoices  in  the  death  throe 
of  the  meanest  creature.  The  stagnant  pool 
is  not  less  poisonous  drop  for  drop  than  the 
mighty  swamp,  though  its  reach  be  smaller. 
He  who  has  desired  to  be  and  accomplish  what 
this  man  has  been  and  accomplished,  is  as  this 
man,  though  he  have  lacked  the  power  to  per- 
form. Nay,  remember  this  one  thing  more: 
Certain  sons  of  God  are  born  on  earth,  named 
by  men  Children  of  Genius.  In  early  youth 
each  stands  at  the  parting  of  the  way  and 
chooses;  he  bears  his  gift  for  others  or  for 
himself.  But  forget  this  never,  whatever  his 
choice  may  be,  — that  there  is  laid  on  him  a  bur- 


92         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

den  that  is  laid  not  on  others  —  all  space  is 
open  to  him,  and  his  choice  is  infinite  —  and 
if  he  falls  beneath  it,  let  men  weep  rather  than 
curse,  for  he  was  born  a  Son  of  God. " 

There  was  silence  again.  Then  Peter  Halket 
clasped  his  arms  about  the  stranger's  feet. 
"My  master,"  he  cried,  "I  dare  not  take  that 
message.  It  is  not  that  men  may  say,  '  Here 
is  Trooper  Peter  Halket,  whom  we  all  know,  a 
man  who  kept  women  and  shot  niggers,  turned 
prophet ; '  but  it  is,  that  it  is  true.  Have  I 
not  wished  — "  and  Peter  Halket  would  have 
poured  out  all  his  soul;  but  the  stranger 
prevented  him. 

"Peter  Simon  Halket,"  he  said,  "is  it  the 
trumpet  which  gives  forth  the  call  to  battle, 
whether  it  be  battered  tin  or  gilded  silver, 
which  boots?  Is  it  not  the  call?  What  and 
if  I  should  send  my  message  by  a  woman  or  a 
child,  shall  truth  be  less  truth  because  the 
bearer  is  despised  ?  Is  it  the  mouth  that  speaks 
or  the  word  that  is  spoken  which  is  eternal? 
Nevertheless,  if  you  will  have  it  so,  go,  and 


OF   MASHONALAND  93 

say,  '  I,  Peter  Halket,  sinner  among  you  all, 
who  have  desired  women  and  gold,  who  have 
loved  myself  and  hated  my  fellow,  I  — ' 
The  stranger  looked  down  at  him,  and  placed 
his  hand  gently  on  his  head.  "  Peter  Simon 
Halket,"  he  said,  "a  harder  task  I  give  you 
than  any  which  has  been  laid  upon  you.  In 
that  small  spot  where  alone  on  earth  your  will 
rules,  bring  there  into  being  the  kingdom  to- 
day. Love  your  enemies;  do  good  to  them 
that  hate  you.  Walk  ever  forward,  looking 
not  to  the  right  hand  or  the  left.  Heed  not 
what  men  shall  say  of  you.  Succor  the  op- 
pressed; deliver  the  captive.  If  thine  enemy 
hunger,  feed  him;  if  he  is  athirst,  give  him 
drink. "  A  curious  warmth  and  gladness  stole 
over  Peter  Halket  as  he  knelt;  it  was  as 
when  a  little  child  his  mother  folded  him  to 
her :  he  saw  nothing  more  about  him  but  a  soft 
bright  light.  Yet  in  it  he  heard  a  voice  cry, 
"Because  thou  hast  loved  mercy  —  and  hated 
oppression! — " 

When  Trooper  Peter  Halket  raised  himself, 


94        TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

he  saw  the  figure  of  the  stranger  passing  from 
him.  He  cried,  "My  Master,  let  me  go  with 
you."  But  the  figure  did  not  turn.  And,  as 
it  passed  into  the  darkness,  it  seemed  to  Peter 
Halket  that  the  form  grew  larger  and  larger; 
and  as  it  descended  the  farther  side  of  the 
koppje,  it  seemed  that  for  one  instant  he  still 
saw  the  head  with  a  pale,  white  light  upon  it; 
then  it  vanished. 

And  Trooper  Peter  Halket  sat  alone  upon 
the  koppje. 


OF   MASHONALAND  95 


II 


IT  was  a  hot  day.  The  sun  poured  down  its 
rays  over  the  scattered  trees,  and  stunted  bush, 
and  long  grass,  and  over  the  dried-up  river- 
beds. Far  in  the  blue,  so  high  the  eye  could 
scarcely  mark  them,  vultures  were  flying  south- 
ward, where  forty  miles  off  kraals  had  been 
destroyed  and  two  hundred  black  carcasses  were 
lying  in  the  sun. 

Under  a  group  of  tall  straggling  trees  among 
the  grass  and  low  scrub,  on  the  banks  of  an 
almost  dried-up  river-bed,  a  small  camp  had 
been  pitched. 

The  party  had  lost  their  mules,  and  pending 
their  recovery  had  already  been  there  seven 
days.  The  three  cartloads  of  provisions  they 
were  conveying  to  the  large  camp  were  drawn 
up  under  the  trees,  and  had  a  sail  thrown  across 


96         TROOPER   PETER  HALKET 

them  to  form  a  shelter  for  some  of  the  men ; 
while  on  the  other  side  of  the  cleared  and  open 
space  that  formed  the  camp,  a  smaller  sail  was 
thrown  across  two  poles  forming  a  rough  tent ; 
and  away  to  the  left,  a  little  cut  off  from  the 
rest  of  the  camp  by  some  low  bushes,  was  the 
bell-shaped  tent  of  the  Captain,  under  a  tall 
tree.  Before  the  bell-shaped  tent  stood  a  short 
stunted  tree,  its  thick  white  stem  gnarled  and 
knotted;  while  two  stunted  misshapen  branches, 
like  arms,  stretched  out  on  either  side. 

Before  this  tree,  up  and  down,  with  his  gun 
upon  his  arm,  his  head  bent,  and  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground,  while  the  hot  sun  blazed  on  his 
shoulders,  walked  a  man. 

Three  or  four  fires  were  burning  about  the 
camp  in  different  parts,  —  three  cooking  the 
mealies  and  rice  which  formed  the  diet  of 
the  men,  their  stock  of  tinned  meats  having 
been  exhausted,  while  the  fourth,  which  was 
watched  by  a  native  boy,  contained  the  more 
appetizing  meal  of  the  Captain. 

Most  of  the  men  were  out  of  camp,  the  colored 


OF   MASHONALAND  97 

boys  having  gone  to  fetch  the  mules  which  had 
been  discovered  in  the  hills  a  few  miles  off, 
and  were  expected  to  arrive  in  the  evening; 
and  the  white  men  had  gone  out  to  see  what 
game  they  could  bring  down  with  their  guns 
to  flavor  the  mealie  pots,  or  to  reconnoitre  the 
country;  though  all  native  habitations  had  been 
destroyed  within  a  radius  of  thirty  miles,  and 
the  land  was  as  bare  of  black  men  as  a  child's 
hand  of  hair;  and  even  the  beasts  seemed  to 
have  vanished. 

In  the  shade  of  the  tent,  formed  of  the  can- 
vas across  two  posts,  lay  three  white  men, 
whose  work  it  was  to  watch  the  pots  and  guard 
the  camp. 

They  were  all  three  Colonial  Englishmen, 
and  lay  on  the  ground  on  their  stomachs,  pass- 
ing the  time  by  carrying  on  a  desultory  con- 
versation, or  taking  a  few  whiffs,  slowly,  and 
with  care,  from  their  pipes;  for  tobacco  was 
precious  in  the  camp. 

Under  some  bushes  a  few  yards  off  lay  a 
huge  trooper,  whose  nationality  was  uncertain, 
7 


98         TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

but  who  was  held  to  hail  from  some  part  of 
the  British  Isles,  and  who  had  travelled  round 
the  world.  He  was  currently  reported  to  have 
done  three  years'  labor  for  attempted  rape  in 
Australia,  but  nothing  certain  was  known  re- 
garding his  antecedents.  He  had  been  up  on 
guard  half  the  night,  and  was  now  taking  his 
rest  lying  on  his  back  with  his  arm  thrown 
over  his  face;  but  a  slight  movement  could  be 
noted  in  his  jaw  as  he  slowly  chewed  a  piece 
of  tobacco,  and  occasionally  when  he  turned  it 
round,  the  mouth  opened,  and  disclosed  two  rows 
of  broken  yellow  stumps  set  in  very  red  gums. 

The  three  Colonial  Englishmen  took  no 
notice  of  him.  Two,  who  were  slowly  smok- 
ing, were  of  the  large  and  powerful  build,  and 
somewhat  loose  set  about  the  shoulders,  which 
is  common  among  Colonial  Europeans  of  the 
third  generation,  whether  Dutch  or  English, 
and  had  the  placidity  and  general  good  tem- 
per of  expression  which  commonly  marks  the 
Colonial  European  who  grows  up  beyond  the 
range  of  the  cities.  The  third  was  smaller 


OF   MASHONALAND  99 

and  more  wiry,  and  of  an  unusually  nervous 
type,  with  aquiline  nose,  and  sallow  hatchet 
face,  with  a  somewhat  discontented  expression. 
He  was  holding  forth,  while  his  companions 
smoked  and  listened. 

"Now  what  I  say  is  this,"  —  he  brought  his 
hand  down  on  the  red  sand.  "Here  we  are 
with  about  one-half  teaspoon  of  Dop  given  us 
at  night,  while  he  has  ten  empty  champagne 
bottles  lying  behind  his  tent.  And  we  have 
to  live  on  the  mealies  we  're  convoying  for  the 
horses,  while  he  has  pati  and  beef,  and  lives 
like  a  lord  !  It 's  all  very  well  for  the  regulars : 
they  know  what  they  're  in  for,  and  they  've  got 
gentlemen  over  them,  anyhow,  and  one  can 
stomach  anything  if  you  know  what  kind  of  a 
fellow  you  've  got  over  you.  English  officers 
are  gentlemen,  anyhow;  or  if  one  was  under 
Selous  now  —  " 

"  Oh,  Selous  's  a  man  /"  broke  out  the  other 
two,  taking  their  pipes  from  their  mouths. 

"Yes;  well,  that's  what  I  say.  But  these 
fellows,  who  could  n't  do  as  farmers,  and 


ioo       TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

couldn't  do  as  shop-keepers,  and  God  knows 
what  else,  and  their  friends  in  England  didn't 
want  to  have  them,  they  're  sent  out  here  to 
boss  it  over  us !  It 's  a  damned  shame !  Why, 
I  want  to  know,  am  n't  I  as  good  as  any  of 
these  fellows  who  come  swelling  it  about  here? 
Friends  got  money,  I  suppose !  "  He  cast  his 
sharp  glance  over  towards  the  bell  tent.  "If 
they  gave  us  real  English  officers  now  —  " 

"Ah!"  said  the  biggest  of  his  companions, 
who,  in  spite  of  his  huge  form,  had  something 
of  the  simplicity  and  good-nature  of  a  child  in 
his  handsome  face;  "it's  because  you're  not 
a  big  enough  swell,  you  know!  He'll  be  a 
colonel,  or  a  general,  before  we  've  done  with 
him.  I  call  them  all  generals  or  colonels  up 
here;  it 's  safest,  you  know:  if  they  're  not  that 
to-day  they  will  be  to-morrow !  " 

This  was  intended  as  a  joke,  and  in  that  hot 
weather,  and  in  that  dull  world,  anything  was 
good  enough  to  laugh  at.  The  third  man 
smiled,  but  the  first  speaker  remained  serious. 

"I  only  know  this,"  he  said,  —  "I'd  teach 


OF   MASHONALAND  101 

these  fellows  a  lesson  if  any  one  belonging  to 
me  had  been  among  the  people  they  left  to  be 
murdered  here  while  they  went  gallivanting 
to  the  Transvaal.  If  my  mother  or  sister  had 
been  killed  here,  I  'd  have  taken  a  pistol  and 
blown  out  the  brains  of  the  great  Panjandrum, 
and  the  little  ones  after  him.  Fine  adminis- 
tration of  a  country,  this,  to  invite  people  to 
come  in  and  live  here,  and  then  take  every 
righting  man  out  of  the  country  on  a  gold- 
hunting  marauding  expedition  to  the  Transvaal, 
and  leave  us  to  face  the  bitter  end !  I  look 
upon  every  man  and  woman  who  was  killed  here 
as  murdered  by  the  Chartered  Company. " 

"  Well,  Jameson  only  did  what  he  was  told. 
He  had  to  obey  orders  like  the  rest  of  us. 
He  didn't  make  the  plan,  and  he's  got  the 
punishment." 

"What  business  had  he  to  listen?  What's 
all  this  fine  administration  they  talk  of?  It's 
six  years  since  I  came  to  this  country,  and  I  've 
worked  like  a  nigger  ever  since  I  came,  and 
what  have  I,  or  any  men  who  've  worked  hard 


102       TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

at  real,  honest  farming,  got  for  it?  Everything 
in  the  land  is  given  away  for  the  benefit  of  a 
few  big  folks  over  the  water  or  swells  out  here. 
If  England  took  over  the  Chartered  Company 
to-morrow,  what  would  she  find?  Everything 
of  value  in  the  land  given  over  to  private  con- 
cessionaires —  they  '11  line  their  pockets  if  the 
whole  land  goes  to  pot!  It'll  be  the  jackals 
eating  all  the  flesh  off  the  horse's  bones,  and 
calling  the  lion  in  to  lick  the  bones." 

"  Oh,  you  wait  a  bit,  and  you  '11  be  squared," 
said  the  handsome  man.  "  I  've  been  here  five 
years  and  had  lots  of  promises,  though  I  have  n't 
got  anything  else  yet;  but  I  expect  it  to 
come  some  day,  so  I  keep  my  mouth  shut !  If 
they  asked  me  to  sign  a  paper,  that  Mr.  Over- 
the-Way "  —  he  nodded  towards  the  bell  tent 
—  "never  got  drunk,  or  didn't  know  how  to 
swear,  I  'd  sign  it,  if  there  was  a  good  dose 
of  squaring  to  come  after  it.  I  could  stand  a 
good  lot  of  that  sort  of  thing  —  squaring  —  if 
it  would  only  come  my  way." 

The  men  laughed  in  a  dreary  sort  of  way, 


OF  MASHONALAND  103 

and  the  third  man,  who  had  not  spoken  yet, 
rolled  round  onto  his  back,  and  took  the  pipe 
from  his  mouth. 

"  I  tell  you  what, "  said  the  keen  man,  "  those 
of  us  up  here  who  have  got  a  bit  of  land  and 
are  trying  honestly  and  fairly  to  work,  are  get- 
ting pretty  sick  of  this  humbugging  fighting. 
If  we  'd  had  a  few  men  like  the  Curries  and 
Bowkers  of  the  old  days  up  here  from  the  first, 
all  this  would  never  have  happened.  And 
there  's  no  knowing  when  a  reason  won't  turn 
up  for  keeping  the  bloody  thing  on  or  stopping 
it  off  for  a  time,  to  break  out  just  when  one  's 
settled  down  to  work.  It  's  a  damned  con- 
venient thing  to  have  a  war  like  this  to  turn 
on  and  off." 

Slowly  the  third  man  keeled  round  onto  his 
stomach  again.  "Let  resignation  wait.  We 
fight  the  Matabele  again  to-morrow"  he  said 
sententiously. 

A  low  titter  ran  round  the  group.  Even  the 
man  under  the  bushes,  though  his  eyes  were 
still  closed  and  his  arm  across  his  face,  let  his 


104       TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

mouth  relax  a  little,  and  showed  his  yellow 
teeth. 

"I  'm  always  expecting,"  said  the  big  hand- 
some man,  "to  have  a  paper  come  round 
signed  by  all  the  nigger  chiefs,  saying  how 
much  they  love  the  B.  S.  A.  Company,  and 
how  glad  they  are  the  Panjandrum  has  got 
them,  and  how  awfully  good  he  is  to  them; 
and  they  're  going  to  subscribe  to  the  brazen 
statue.  There 's  nothing  a  man  can't  be 
squared  to  do. " 

The  third  man  lay  on  his  back  again,  lazily 
examining  his  hand,  which  he  held  above  his 
face.  "What's  that  in  the  Bible,"  he  said 
slowly,  "about  the  statue  whose  thighs  and 
belly  were  of  brass,  and  its  feet  of  mud?" 

"I  don't  know  much  about  the  Bible,"  said 
the  keen  man;  "I'm  going  to  see  if  my  pot 
is  n't  boiling  over.  Won't  yours  burn? " 

"No,  I  asked  the  Captain's  boy  to  keep  an 
eye  on  it;  but  I  expect  he  won't.  Do  you  put 
the  rice  in  with  the  mealies  ?  " 

"Got  to;  I  've  got  no  other  pot.     And  the 


OF   MASHONALAND  105 

fellows  don't  object.  It 's  a  tasty  variety,  you 
know ! " 

The  keen-faced  man  slouched  away  across  the 
square  to  where  his  fire  burned ;  and  presently 
the  other  man  rose  and  went,  either  to  look  at 
his  own  pot  or  sleep  under  the  carts ;  and  the 
large  Colonial  man  was  left  alone.  His  fire 
was  burning  satisfactorily  about  fifty  feet  off, 
and  he  folded  his  arms  on  the  ground  and 
rested  his  forehead  on  them,  and  watched 
lazily  the  little  black  ants  that  ran  about  in 
the  red  sand,  just  under  his  nose. 

A  great  stillness  settled  down  on  the  camp. 
Now  and  again  a  stick  cracked  in  the  fires,  and 
the  cicadas  cried  aloud  in  the  tree  stems ;  but, 
except  where  the  solitary  paced  up  and  down 
before  the  little  flat-topped  tree  in  front  of  the 
Captain's  tent,  not  a  creature  stirred  in  the 
whole  camp;  and  the  snores  of  the  trooper 
under  the  bushes  might  be  heard  half  across 
the  camp. 

The  intense  mid-day  heat  had  settled  down. 

At  last  there  was  the  sound  of  some  one 


106       TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

breaking  through  the  long  grass  and  bushes 
which  had  only  been  removed  for  a  few  feet 
round  the  camp,  and  the  figure  of  a  man 
emerged,  bearing  in  one  hand  a  gun,  and  in  the 
other  a  bird  which  he  had  shot.  He  was  evi- 
dently an  Englishman,  and  not  long  from 
Europe,  by  the  bloom  of  the  skin,  which  was 
perceptible  in  spite  of  the  superficial  tan.  His 
face  was  at  the  moment  flushed  with  heat;  but 
the  clear  blue  eyes  and  delicate  features  lost 
none  of  their  sensitive  refinement. 

He  came  up  to  the  Colonial,  and  dropped  the 
bird  before  him.  "That  is  all  I've  got,"  he 
said. 

He  threw  himself  also  down  on  the  ground, 
and  put  his  gun  under  the  loose  flap  of  the  tent. 

The  Colonial  raised  his  head ;  and  without 
taking  his  elbows  from  the  ground,  took  up  the 
bird.  "  I  '11  put  it  into  the  pot;  it  '11  give  it  the 
flavor  of  something  except  weevily  mealies," 
he  said,  and  fell  to  plucking  it. 

The  Englishman  took  his  hat  off,  and  lifted 
the  fine  damp  hair  from  his  forehead. 


OF  MASHONALAND  107 

"Knocked  up,  eh?"  said  the  Colonial,  glanc- 
ing kindly  up  at  him.  "  I  Ve  a  few  drops  in  my 
flask  still." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  can  stand  it  well  enough.  It 's 
only  a  little  warm."  He  gave  a  slight  cough, 
and  laid  his  head  down  sideways  on  his  arm. 
His  eyes  watched  mechanically  the  Colonial's 
manipulation  of  the  bird.  He  had  left  England 
to  escape  phthisis ;  and  he  had  gone  to  Mash- 
onaland  because  it  was  a  place  where  he  could 
earn  an  open-air  living,  and  save  his  parents 
from  the  burden  of  his  support. 

"  What 's  Halket  doing  over  there  ? "  he 
asked  suddenly,  raising  his  head. 

"  Were  n't  you  here  this  morning?  "  asked  the 
Colonial.  "  Did  n't  you  know  they  'd  had  a 
devil  of  a  row?  " 

"  Who?"  asked  the  Englishman,  half  raising 
himself  on  his  elbows. 

"  Halket  and  the  Captain."  The  Colonial 
paused  in  the  plucking.  "  My  God,  you  never 
saw  anything  like  it !  " 

The  Englishman  sat  upright  now,  and  looked 


io8       TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

keenly  over  the   bushes  where   Halket's  bent 
head  might  be  seen  as  he  paced  to  and  fro. 

"  What 's  he  doing  out  there  in  this  blazing 
sun?" 

"  He  's  on  guard,"  said  the  Colonial.  "  I 
thought  you  were  here  when  it  happened.  It 's 
the  best  thing  I  ever  saw  or  heard  of  in  my  whole 
life !  "  He  rolled  half  over  on  his  side  and 
laughed  at  the  remembrance.  "  You  see,  some 
of  the  men  went  down  into  the  river,  to  look  for 
fresh  pools  of  water,  and  they  found  a  nigger, 
hidden  away  in  a  hole  in  the  bank,  not  five 
hundred  yards  from  here !  They  found  the 
bloody  rascal  by  a  little  path  he  tramped  down 
to  the  water,  trodden  hard,  just  like  a  porcu- 
pine's walk.  They  got  him  in  the  hole  like  an 
aard-vark, 1  with  a  bush  over  the  mouth,  so  you 
could  n't  see  it.  He  'd  evidently  been  there  a 
long  time ;  the  floor  was  full  of  fish  bones  he  'd 
caught  in  the  pool,  and  a  bit  of  root  like  a  stick 
half  gnawed  through.  He'd  been  potted,  and 
got  two  bullet  wounds  in  the  thigh,  but  he  could 

1  Aard-vark,  the  great  ant-eater. 


OF   MASHONALAND  109 

walk  already.  It 's  evident  he  was  just  waiting 
till  we  were  gone,  to  clear  off  after  his  people. 
He  'd  got  that  beastly  scurvy  look  a  nigger  gets 
when  he  has  n't  had  anything  to  eat  for  a  long 
time. 

"  Well,  they  hauled  him  up  before  the  Cap- 
tain, of  course ;  and  he  blew  and  swore,  and 
said  the  nigger  was  a  spy,  and  was  to  be  hanged 
to-morrow ;  he  'd  hang  him  to-night,  only  the 
big  troop  might  catch  us  up  this  evening,  so 
he  'd  wait  to  hear  what  the  Colonel  said ;  but  if 
they  did  n't  come  he  'd  hang  him  first  thing  to- 
morrow morning,  or  have  him  shot,  as  sure  as 
the  sun  rose.  He  made  the  fellows  tie  him  up 
to  that  little  tree  before  his  tent,  with  riems1 
round  his  legs,  and  riems  round  his  waist,  and  a 
riem  round  his  neck." 

"What  did  the  native  say?"  asked  the 
Englishman. 

"  Oh,  he  did  n't  say  anything.  There  was  n't 
a  soul  in  the  camp  could  have  understood  him 

1  A  "  riem  "  is  a  rope  of  undressed  leather  universally  used 
in  South  Africa. 


i  io       TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

if  he  had.  The  colored  boys  don't  know  his 
language.  I  expect  he  's  one  of  those  bloody 
fellows  we  hit  the  day  we  cleared  the  bush  out 
yonder ;  but  how  he  got  down  that  bank  with 
his  leg  in  the  state  it  must  have  been,  I  don't 
know.  He  did  n't  try  to  fight  when  they  caught 
him ;  just  stared  in  front  of  him  —  fright,  I  sup- 
pose. He  must  have  been  a  big  strapping  devil 
before  he  was  taken  down. 

"  Well,  I  tell  you,  we  'd  just  got  him  fixed  up, 
and  the  Captain  was  just  going  into  his  tent  to 
have  a  drink,  and  we  chaps  were  all  standing 
round,  when  up  steps  Halket,  right  before  the 
Captain,  and  pulls  his  front  lock — you  know 
the  way  he  has?  Oh,  my  God,  my  God,  if  you 
could  have  seen  it !  I  '11  never  forget  it  to  my 
dying  day !  "  The  Colonial  seemed  bursting 
with  internal  laughter.  "  He  begins,  '  Sir,  may 
I  speak  to  you  ? '  in  a  formal  kind  of  way,  like  a 
fellow  introducing  a  deputation ;  and  then  all  of 
a  sudden  he  starts  off —  oh,  my  God,  you  never 
heard  such  a  thing!  It  was  like  a  boy  in 
Sunday-school  saying  up  a  piece  of  Scripture 


OF  MASHONALAND  in 

he  's  learnt  by  heart,  and  got  all  ready  before- 
hand, and  he 's  not  going  to  be  stopped  till  he 
gets  to  the  end  of  it." 

"What  did  he  say?  "  asked  the  Englishman. 

"  Oh,  he  started,  How  did  we  know  this  nigger 
was  a  spy  at  all ;  it  would  be  a  terrible  thing 
to  kill  him  if  we  were  n't  quite  sure ;  perhaps 
he  was  hiding  there  because  he  was  wounded. 
And  then  he  broke  out  that,  after  all,  these 
niggers  were  men  fighting  for  their  country; 
we  would  fight  against  the  French  if  they  came 
and  took  England  from  us;  and  the  niggers 
were  brave  men,  '  please,  sir/  —  every  five 
minutes  he  'd  pull  his  forelock,  and  say  '  please, 
sir ! '  —  and  if  we  have  to  fight  against  them  we 
ought  to  remember  they  're  fighting  for  freedom ; 
we  should  n't  shoot  wounded  prisoners  when 
they  were  black  if  we  would  n't  shoot  them  if 
they  were  white  !  And  then  he  broke  out  pure 
unmitigated  Exeter  Hall !  You  never  heard 
anything  like  it !  All  men  were  brothers,  and 
God  loved  a  black  man  as  well  as  a  white.  Ma- 
shonas  and  Matabele  were  poor  ignorant  folk, 


112       TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

and  we  had  to  take  care  of  them.  And  then  he 
started  out  that  we  ought  to  let  this  man  go ;  we 
ought  to  give  him  food  for  the  road,  and  tell  him 
to  go  back  to  his  people,  and  tell  them  we  had  n't 
come  to  take  their  land,  but  to  teach  them  and 
love  them.  '  It 's  hard  to  love  a  nigger,  Captain, 
but  we  must  try  it ;  we  must  try  it ! '  And  every 
five  minutes  he  'd  break  out  with,  '  And  I  think 
this  is  a  man  I  know,  Captain ;  I  'm  not  sure,  but 
I  think  he  comes  from  up  Lo  Magundis  way ! '  — 
as  if  any  born  devil  cared  whether  a  bloody 
nigger  came  from  Lo  Magundis  or  anywhere 
else  !  I  'm  sure  he  said  it  fifteen  times.  And 
then  he  broke  out,  '  I  don't  mean  that  I  'm  better 
than  you  or  anybody  else,  Captain ;  I  'm  as  bad 
a  man  as  any  in  camp,  and  I  know  it'  And  off 
he  started,  telling  us  all  the  sins  he  'd  ever  com- 
mitted ;  and  he  kept  on :  '  I  'm  an  unlearn'd  ig- 
norant man,  Captain ;  but  I  must  stand  by  this 
nigger  >  ne  's  got  no  one  else  ! '  And  then  he 
says :  '  If  you  let  me  take  him  up  to  Lo  Ma- 
gundis, sir,  I  'm  not  afraid ;  and  I  '11  tell  the 
people  there  that  it 's  not  their  land  and  their 


OF   MASHON ALAND  113 

women  that  we  want,  it's  them  to  be  our 
brothers,  and  love  us.  If  you  '11  only  let  me 
go,  sir,  I  '11  go  and  make  peace ;  give  the  man 
to  me,  sir !  '  "  The  Colonial  shook  with 
laughter. 

"What  did  the  Captain  say?"  asked  the 
Englishman. 

"  The  Captain !  Well,  you  know  the  smallest 
thing  sets  him  off  swearing  all  round  the  world 
—  but  he  just  stood  there,  with  his  arms  hang- 
ing down  at  each  side  of  him,  and  his  eyes 
staring,  and  his  face  getting  redder  and  redder: 
and  all  he  could  say  was,  '  My  Gawd !  My 
Gawd!'  I  thought  he'd  burst  And  Halket 
stood  there,  looking  straight  in  front  of  him, 
as  though  he  did  n't  see  a  soul  of  us  all 
there." 

"  What  did  the  Captain  do  ?  " 

"Oh,  as  soon  as  Halket  turned  away  he 
started  swearing,  but  he  got  the  tail  of  one 
oath  hooked  on  to  the  head  of  another.  It  was 
nearly  as  good  as  Halket  himself.  And  when 
he  'd  finished  and  got  sane  a  bit,  he  said  Halket 
8 


U4       TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

was  to  walk  up  and  down  there  all  day  and  keep 
watch  on  the  nigger.  And  he  gave  orders  that 
if  the  big  troop  did  n't  come  up  to-night,  that 
he  was  to  be  potted  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
and  that  Halket  was  to  shoot  him. " 

The  Englishman  started;  "What  did  Halket 
say?" 

"Nothing.  He's  been  walking  there  with 
his  gun  all  day." 

The  Englishman  watched  with  his  clear  eyes 
the  spot  where  Halket' s  head  appeared  and 
disappeared. 

"  Is  the  nigger  hanging  there  now  ?  " 

"  Yes.  The  Captain  said  no  one  was  to  go 
near  him,  or  give  him  anything  to  eat  or  drink 
all  day;  but  — "  the  Colonial  glanced  round 
where  the  trooper  lay  under  the  bushes,  and 
then  lowering  his  voice,  added,  "this  morning, 
a  couple  of  hours  ago,  Halket  sent  the  Captain's 
colored  boy  to  ask  me  for  a  drink  of  water.  I 
thought  it  was  for  Halket  himself,  and  the 
poor  devil  must  be  hot  walking  there  in  the 
sun,  so  I  sent  him  the  water  out  of  my  canvas 


OF   MASHON ALAND  115 

bag.  I  went  along  afterwards  to  see  what  had 
become  of  my  mug;  the  boy  had  gone,  and 
there,  straight  in  front  of  the  Captain's  tent, 
before  the  very  door,  was  Halket  letting  that 
bloody  nigger  drink  out  of  my  mug.  The 
riem  was  so  tight  round  his  neck  he  couldn't 
drink  but  slowly,  and  there  was  Halket  hold- 
ing it  up  to  him !  If  the  Captain  had  looked 
out!  W — h — e — w!  I  would  n't  have  been 
Halket!" 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  try  to  make  Halket 
do  it?"  asked  the  Englishman. 

"Of  course  he  will.  He's  the  Devil  in; 
and  Halket  had  better  not  make  a  fuss  about 
it,  or  it'll  be  the  worse  for  him." 

"  His  time  's  up  to-morrow  evening!  " 

"Yes,  but  not  to-morrow  morning.  And  I 
wouldn't  make  a  row  about  it  if  I  was  Halket. 
It  does  n't  do  to  fall  out  with  the  authorities 
here.  What '  s  one  nigger  more  or  less  ?  He'll 
get  shot  some  other  way  or  die  of  hunger,  if 
we  don't  do  it." 

"  It 's  hardly  sport  to  shoot  a  man  tied  up 


u6       TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

neck  and  legs,"  said  the  Englishman,  his 
finely-drawn  eyebrows  contracting  and  expand- 
ing a  little. 

"Oh,  they  don't  feel,  these  niggers,  not,  as 
we  should,  you  know.  I  've  seen  a  man  going 
to  be  shot,  looking  full  at  the  guns,  and  fall- 
ing like  that !  —  without  a  sound.  They  've  no 
feeling,  these  niggers;  I  don't  suppose  they 
care  much  whether  they  live  or  die,  —  not  as 
we  should,  you  know." 

The  Englishman's  eyes  were  still  fixed  on  the 
bushes,  behind  which  Halket's  head  appeared 
and  disappeared. 

"  They  have  no  right  to  order  Halket  to  do 
it  —  and  he  will  not  do  it!"  said  the  English- 
man, slowly. 

"You  're  not  going  to  be  such  a  fool  as  to 
step  in,  are  you?"  said  the  Colonial,  looking 
curiously  at  him.  "  It  does  n't  pay.  I  've  made 
up  my  mind  never  to  speak,  whatever  happens. 
What 's  the  good  ?  Suppose  one  were  to  make 
a  complaint  now  about  this  affair  with  Halket; 
if  he 's  made  to  shoot  the  nigger  against  his 


OF   MASHONALAND  117 

will,  what  would  come  of  it?  There 'd  be 
half  a  dozen  fellows  here  squared  to  say  what 
headquarters  wanted  —  not  to  speak  of  a  fellow 
like  that," — turning  his  thumb  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  sleeping  trooper,  —  "  who  are  paid 
to  watch.  I  believe  he  reports  on  the  Captain 
himself  to  the  big  headquarters.  And  all 
one's  wires  are  edited  before  they  go  down; 
only  what  the  company  wants  to  go,  go 
through.  There  are  many  downright  good  fel- 
lows in  this  lot ;  but  how  many  of  us  are  there, 
do  you  think,  who  could  throw  away  all  chance 
of  ever  making  anything  in  Mashonaland,  for 
the  sake  of  standing  by  Halket,  even  if  he  had  a 
real  row  with  the  company  ?  I  've  a  great  lik- 
ing for  Halket  myself;  he  's  a  real  good  fellow, 
and  he 's  done  me  many  a  good  turn  —  took  my 
watch  only  last  night,  because  I  was  off  color; 
I  'd  do  anything  for  him  in  reason.  But,  I  say 
this  flatly,  —  I  could  n't  and  would  n't  fly  in  the 
face  of  the  authorities  for  him  or  any  one  else. 
I  've  my  own  girl  waiting  for  me  down  in  the 
Colony,  and  she  's  been  waiting  for  me  these 


ii8       TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

five  years.  And  whether  I  'm  able  to  marry 
her  or  not  depends  on  how  I  stand  with  the 
company:  and  I  say,  flatly,  I  'm  not  going  to 
fall  out  with  it.  I  came  here  to  make  money; 
and  I  mean  to  make  it !  If  other  people  like  to 
run  their  heads  against  stone  walls,  let  them ; 
but  they  must  n't  expect  me  to  follow  them. 
This  isn't  a  country  where  a  man  can  say  what 
he  thinks." 

The  Englishman  rested  his  elbows  on  the 
ground.  "  And  the  Union  Jack  is  supposed  to 
be  flying  over  us." 

"Yes,  with  a  black  bar  across  it  for  the 
company,"  laughed  the  Colonial. 

"  Do  you  ever  have  the  nightmare  ? "  asked 
the  Englishman,  suddenly. 

"  I  ?  Oh,  yes,  sometimes  "  —  he  looked  curi- 
ously at  his  companion  —  "  when  I  've  eaten  too 
much  I  get  it." 

"  I  always  have  it  since  I  came  up  here, "  said 
the  Englishman.  "  It  is  that  a  vast  world  is 
resting  on  me,  — a  whole  globe;  and  I  am  a 
midge  beneath  it.  I  try  to  raise  it,  and  I  can- 


OF   MASHONALAND  119 

not.     So  I  lie  still  under  it  —  and  let  it  crush 
me!" 

"It 's  curious  you  should  have  the  nightmare 
so  up  here,"  said  the  Colonial,  —  "one  gets  so 
little  to  eat." 

There  was  a  silence;  he  was  picking  the 
little  fine  feathers  from  the  bird,  and  the 
Englishman  was  watching  the  ants. 

"Mind  you,"  the  Colonial  said  at  last,  "I 
don't  say  that  in  this  case  the  Captain  was  to 
blame;  Halket  made  an  awful  ass  of  himself. 
He  's  never  been  quite  right  since  that  time 
he  got  lost,  and  spent  the  night  out  on  the 
koppje.  When  we  found  him  in  the  morning 
he  was  in  a  kind  of  dead  sleep;  we  couldn't 
wake  him;  yet  it  wasn't  cold  enough  for  him 
to  have  been  frozen.  He  's  never  been  the 
same  man  since  —  queer,  you  know;  giving  his 
rations  away  to  the  colored  boys,  and  letting 
the  other  fellows  have  his  dot  of  brandy  at 
night;  and  keeping  himself  sort  of  apart  to 
himself,  you  know.  The  other  fellows  think 
he's  got  a  touch  of  fever  on,  caught  wander- 


120       TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

ing  about  in  the  long  grass  that  day.  But  I 
don't  think  it's  that;  I  think  it's  being  alone 
in  the  veld  that  's  got  hold  of  him.  Man,  have 
you  ever  been  out  like  that,  alone  in  the  veld, 
night  and  day,  and  not  a  soul  to  speak  to  ?  I 
have;  and  I  tell  you  if  I  'd  been  left  there 
three  days  longer  I  'd  have  gone  mad  or  turned 
religious.  Man,  it 's  the  nights,  with  the  stars 
up  above  you,  and  the  dead  still  all  around. 
And  you  think,  and  think,  and  think!  You 
remember  all  kinds  of  things  you  've  never 
thought  of  for  years  and  years.  I  used  to 
talk  to  myself  at  last,  and  make  believe  it  was 
another  man.  I  was  out  seven  days;  and  he 
was  only  out  one  night.  But  I  think  it 's 
the  loneliness  that  got  hold  of  him.  Man, 
those  stars  are  awful;  and  that  stillness  that 
comes  towards  morning ! "  He  stood  up.  "  It 's 
a  great  pity,  because  he  's  as  good  a  fellow 
as  ever  was.  But  perhaps  he  '11  come  all 
right." 

He  walked  away  towards  the  pot  with  the 
bird   in  his    hand.     When  he   had   gone  the 


OF   MASHON ALAND  121 

Englishman  turned  round  onto  his  back,    and 
lay  with  his  arm  across  his  forehead. 

High,  high  up,  between  the  straggling 
branches  of  the  tree,  in  the  clear,  blue  Afri- 
can sky  above  him,  he  could  see  the  vultures 
flying  southward. 

That  evening  the  men  sat  eating  their  sup- 
pers round  the  fires.  The  large  troop  had  not 
come  up,  and  the  mules  had  been  brought  in ; 
and  they  were  to  make  a  start  early  the  next 
morning. 

Halket  was  released  from  his  duty,  and  had 
come  up,  and  lain  down  a  little  in  the  back- 
ground of  the  group  who  gathered  round  their 
fire. 

The  Colonial  and  the  Englishman  had  given 
orders  to  all  the  men  of  their  "  mess "  that 
Halket  was  to  be  left  in  quiet,  and  no  ques- 
tions were  to  be  asked  him ;  and  the  men,  fear- 
ing the  Colonial's  size  and  the  Englishman's 
nerve,  left  him  in  peace.  The  men  laughed 
and  chatted  round  the  fire,  while  the  big 


122       TROOPER  PETER   HALKET 

Colonial  ladled  out  the  mealies  and  rice  into 
tin  plates,  and  passed  them  round  to  the  men. 
Presently  he  passed  one  to  Halket,  who  lay 
half  behind  him,  leaning  on  his  elbow.  For  a 
while  Halket  ate  nothing,  then  he  took  a  few 
mouthfuls,  and  again  lay  on  his  elbow. 

"You  are  eating  nothing,  Halket,"  said  the 
Englishman,  cheerily,  looking  back. 

"I  am  not  hungry  now,"  he  said.  After  a 
while  he  took  out  his  red  handkerchief,  and 
emptied  carefully  into  it  the  contents  of  the 
plate,  and  tied  it  up  into  a  bundle.  He  set  it 
beside  him  on  the  ground,  and  again  lay  on  his 
elbow. 

"  You  won't  come  nearer  to  the  fire,  Halket  ? " 
asked  the  Englishman. 

"  No,  thank  you ;  the  night  is  warm. " 

After  a  while  Peter  Halket  took  out  from 
his  belt  a  small  hunting-knife,  with  a  rough, 
wooden  handle.  A  small  flat  stone  lay  near 
him,  and  he  passed  the  blade  slowly  up  and 
down  on  it,  now  and  then  taking  it  up,  and 
feeling  the  edge  with  his  finger.  After  a  while 


OF   MASHONALAND  123 

he  put  it  back  in  his  belt,  and  rose  slowly,  tak- 
ing up  his  small  bundle,  and  walked  away  to 
the  tent. 

"He's  had  a  pretty  stiff  day,"  said  the 
Colonial.  "I  expect  he's  glad  enough  to 
turn  in." 

Then  all  the  men  round  the  fire  chatted  freely 
over  his  concerns.  Would  the  Captain  stick 
to  his  word  to-morrow?  Was  Halket  going  to 
do  it  ?  Had  the  Captain  any  right  to  tell  one 
man  off  for  the  work,  instead  of  letting  them 
fire  a  volley?  One  man  said  he  would  do  it 
gladly  in  Halket's  place  if  told  off;  why  had 
he  made  such  a  fool  of  himself?  So  they 
chatted  till  nine  o'clock,  when  the  Englishman 
and  the  Colonial  left  to  turn  in.  They  found 
Halket  asleep,  close  to  the  side  of  the  tent, 
with  his  face  turned  to  the  canvas.  And  they 
lay  down  quietly  that  they  might  not  disturb 
him. 

At  ten  o'clock  all  the  camp  was  asleep,  ex- 
cepting the  two  men  told  off  to  keep  guard, 
who  paced  from  one  end  of  the  camp  to  the 


124       TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

other  to  keep  themselves  awake,  or  stood  chat- 
ting by  the  large  fire,  which  still  burned  at 
one  end. 

In  the  Captain's  tent  a  light  was  kept  burn- 
ing all  night,  which  shone  through  the  thin 
canvas  sides  and  shed  light  on  the  ground 
about;  but,  for  the  rest,  the  camp  was  dead  and 
still. 

By  half -past  one  the  moon  had  gone  down, 
and  there  was  left  only  a  blaze  of  stars  in  the 
great  African  sky. 

Then  Peter  Halket  rose  up ;  softly  he  lifted 
%*  the  canvas  and  crept  out.  On  the  side  farthest 
from  the  camp  he  stood  upright.  On  his  arm 
was  tied  his  red  handkerchief  with  its  contents. 
For  a  moment  he  glanced  up  at  the  galaxy  of 
stars  over  him ;  then  he  stepped  into  the  long 
grass,  and  made  his  way  in  a  direction  opposite 
to  that  in  which  the  camp  lay.  But  after  a 
short  while  he  turned,  and  made  his  way  down 
into  the  river-bed.  He  walked  in  it  for  a 
while.  Then,  after  a  time,  he  sat  down  upon 
the  bank  and  took  off  his  heavy  boots,  and 


OF   MASHONALAND  125 

threw  them  into  the  grass  at  the  side.  Then 
softly,  on  tip-toe,  he  followed  the  little  foot- 
path that  the  men  had  trodden  going  down  to 
the  river  for  water.  It  led  straight  up  to  the 
Captain's  tent,  and  the  little  flat-topped  tree, 
with  its  white  stem,  and  its  two  gnarled 
branches  spread  out  on  either  side.  When  he 
was  within  forty  paces  of  it  he  paused.  Far 
over  the  other  side  of  the  camp  the  two  men 
who  were  on  guard  stood  chatting  by  the  fire. 
A  dead  stillness  was  over  the  rest  of  the  camp. 
The  light  through  the  walls  of  the  Captain's 
tent  made  all  clear  at  the  stem  of  the  little 
tree;  but  there  was  no  sound  of  movement 
within. 

For  a  moment  Peter  Halket  stood  motion- 
less; then  he  walked  up  to  the  tree.  The 
black  man  hung  against  the  white  stem,  so 
closely  bound  to  it  that  they  seemed  one. 
His  hands  were  tied  to  his  sides,  and  his  head 
drooped  on  his  breast.  His  eyes  were  closed, 
and  his  limbs,  which  had  once  been  those  of 
a  powerful  man,  had  fallen  away,  making  the 


126       TROOPER  PETER   HALKET 

joints  stand  out.  The  wool  on  his  head  was 
wild  and  thick  with  neglect,  and  stood  out 
roughly  in  long  strands;  and  his  skin  was 
rough  with  want  and  exposure. 

The  riems  had  cut  a  little  into  his  ankles, 
and  a  small  flow  of  blood  had  made  the  ground 
below  his  feet  dark. 

Peter  Halket  looked  up  at  him:  the  man 
seemed  dead.  He  touched  him  softly  on  the 
arm,  then  shook  it  slightly. 

The  man  opened  his  eyes  slowly,  without  rais- 
ing his  head,  and  looked  at  Peter  from  under  his 
weary  eyebrows.  Except  that  they  moved,  they 
might  have  been  the  eyes  of  a  dead  thing. 

Peter  put  up  his  fingers  to  his  own  lips  — 
"  Hus— h !  hus— h !  "  he  said. 

The  man  hung  torpid,  still  looking  at  Peter. 

Quickly  Peter  Halket  knelt  down,  and  took 
the  knife  from  his  belt.  In  an  instant  the 
riems  that  bound  the  feet  were  cut  through ;  in 
another,  he  had  cut  the  riems  from  the  waist 
and  neck.  The  riems  dropped  to  the  ground 
from  the  arms,  and  the  man  stood  free.  Like 


OF   MASHON ALAND  127 

a  dazed  dumb  creature  he  stood,  with  his  head 
still  down,  eyeing  Peter. 

Instantly  Peter  slipped  the  red  bundle  from 
his  arm  into  the  man's  passive  hand. 

"  Ari-tsemaia !  Hamba !  Loup !  Go ! "  whis- 
pered Peter  Halket,  using  a  word  from  each 
African  language  he  knew.  But  the  black  man 
still  stood  motionless,  looking  at  him  as  one 
paralyzed. 

"  Hamba !  Sucka !  Go ! "  he  whispered,  mo- 
tioning with  his  hand. 

In  an  instant  a  gleam  of  intelligence  shot 
across  the  face,  then  a  wild  transport.  With- 
out a  word,  without  a  sound,  as  the  tiger  leaps 
when  the  wild  dogs  are  on  it,  with  one  long, 
smooth  spring,  as  though  unwounded  and  un- 
hurt, he  turned  and  disappeared  into  the  grass. 
It  closed  behind  him ;  but  as  he  went  the  twigs 
and  leaves  cracked  under  his  tread. 

The  Captain  threw  back  the  door  of  his  tent. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  he  cried. 

Peter  Halket  stood  below  the  tree  with  the 
knife  in  his  hand. 


128       TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

The  noise  roused  the  whole  camp ;  the  men 
on  guard  came  running,  guns  were  fired,  and 
the  half-sleeping  men  came  rushing,  grasping 
their  weapons.  There  was  the  sound  of  firing 
at  the  little  tree;  and  the  cry  went  round  the 
camp,  "  The  Mashonas  are  releasing  the  spy ! " 

When  the  men  got  to  the  Captain's  tent  they 
saw  that  the  nigger  was  gone,  and  Peter  Halket 
was  lying  on  his  face  at  the  foot  of  the  tree, 
with  his  head  turned  towards  the  Captain's 
door. 

There  was  a  wild  confusion  of  voices.  "  How 
many  were  there  ? "  —  "  Where  have  they  gone 
to  now  ?  "  —  "  They  've  shot  Peter  Halket ! "  — 
"  The  Captain  saw  them  do  it. "  —  "  Stand  ready, 
they  may  come  back  any  time ! " 

When  the  Englishman  came,  the  other  men, 
who  knew  he  had  been  a  medical  student,  made 
way  for  him.  He  knelt  down  by  Peter  Halket. 

"  He  's  dead,"  he  said  quietly. 

When  they  had  turned  him  over,  the  Colonial 
knelt  down  on  the  other  side,  with  a  little 
hand-lamp  in  his  hand. 


OF  MASHONALAND  129 

"What  are  you  fellows  fooling  about  here 
for?"  cried  the  Captain.  "Do  you  suppose 
it 's  any  use  looking  for  footmarks  after  all 
this  tramping?  Go,  guard  the  camp  on  all 
sides!" 

"I  will  send  four  colored  boys,"  he  said  to 
the  Englishman  and  the  Colonial,  "to  dig  the 
grave.  You  'd  better  bury  him  at  once ;  there  's 
no  use  waiting.  We  start  first  thing  in  the 
morning. " 

When  they  were  alone  the  Englishman  un- 
covered Peter  Halket's  breast.  There  was  one 
small  wound  just  under  the  left  bosom,  and 
one  on  the  crown  of  the  head,  which  must  have 
been  made  after  he  had  fallen  down. 

"Strange,  isn't  it,  what  he  can  have  been 
doing  here?"  said  the  Colonial.  "A  small 
wound,  isn't  it?" 

"A  pistol  shot,"  said  the  Englishman,  clos- 
ing the  bosom. 

"  A  pistol  — " 

The  Englishman  looked  up  at  him  with  a 
keen  light  in  his  eye. 
9 


130       TROOPER  PETER  HALKET 

"I  told  you  he  would  not  kill  that  nigger. 
See  —  here  —  "  He  took  up  the  knife  which 
had  fallen  from  Peter  Halket's  grasp,  and 
fitted  it  into  a  piece  of  the  cut  leather  that  lay 
on  the  earth. 

"But  you  don't  think  —  "  The  Colonial 
stared  at  him  with  wide-open  eyes;  then  he 
glanced  round  at  the  Captain's  tent. 

"  Yes,  I  think  that.  Go  and  fetch  his  great- 
coat; we  '11  put  him  in  it.  If  it  is  no  use  talk- 
ing while  a  man  is  alive,  it  is  no  use  talking 
when  he  is  dead  1 " 

They  brought  his  greatcoat,  and  they  looked 
in  the  pockets  to  see  if  there  was  anything 
which  might  show  where  he  had  come  from  or 
who  his  friends  were.  But  there  was  nothing 
in  the  pockets  except  an  empty  flask,  and  a 
leathern  purse  with  2s  in,  and  a  little  hand- 
made two-pointed  cap. 

So  they  wrapped  Peter  Halket  up  in  his  great- 
coat, and  put  the  little  cap  on  his  head. 

And  one  hour  after  Peter  Halket  had  stood 
outside  the  tent,  looking  up,  he  was  lying  under 


OF   MASHON ALAND  131 

the  little  tree,  with  the  red  sand  trodden  down 
over  him,  in  which  a  black  man's  and  a  white 
man's  blood  were  mingled. 

All  the  rest  of  the  night  the  men  sat  up 
round  the  fires,  discussing  what  had  happened, 
dreading  an  attack. 

But  the  Englishman  and  the  Colonial  went 
to  their  tent,  to  lie  down. 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  make  any  inquiries  ? " 
asked  the  Colonial. 

"Why  should  they?  His  time  will  be  up  to- 
morrow. " 

"  Are  you  going  to  say  anything  ? " 

"What  is  the  use?" 

They  lay  in  the  dark  for  an  hour,  and  heard 
the  men  chatting  outside. 

"Do  you  believe  in  a  God?"  said  the 
Englishman,  suddenly. 

The  Colonial  started.     "  Of  course  I  do !  " 

"I  used  to,"  said  the  Englishman.  "I  do 
not  believe  in  your  God,  but  I  believe  in  some- 
thing greater  than  I  could  understand,  which 


132       TROOPER   PETER   HALKET 

moved  in  this  earth,  as  your  soul  moves  in 
your  body.  And  I  thought  this  worked  in  such 
wise,  that  the  law  of  cause  and  effect,  which 
holds  in  the  physical  world,  held  also  in  the 
moral;  so  that  the  thing  we  call  justice  ruled. 
I  do  not  believe  it  any  more.  There  is  no  God 
in  Mashonaland. " 

"Oh,  don't  say  that!"  cried  the  Colonist, 
much  distressed.  "Are  you  going  off  your 
head  like  poor  Halket?" 

"No;  but  there  is  no  God,"  said  the  English- 
man. He  turned  round  on  his  shoulder,  and 
said  no  more ;  and  afterwards  the  Colonist  went 
to  sleep. 

Before  dawn,  the  next  morning,  the  men  had 
packed  up  the  goods  and  started. 

By  five  o'clock  the  carts  had  filed  away;  the 
men  rode  or  walked  before  and  behind  them; 
and  the  space  where  the  camp  had  been  was  an 
empty  circle,  save  for  a  few  broken  bottles  and 
empty  tins,  and  the  stones  about  which  the 
fires  had  been  made,  round  which  warm  ashes 
yet  lay. 


OF  MASHONALAND  133 

Only  under  the  little  stunted  tree,  the 
Colonial  and  the  Englishman  were  piling  up 
stones.  Their  horses  stood  saddled  close  by. 

Presently  the  large  trooper  came  riding  back. 
He  had  been  sent  by  the  Captain  to  ask  what 
they  were  fooling  behind  for,  and  to  tell  them 
to  come  on. 

The  men  mounted  their  horses  to  follow  him; 
but  the  Englishman  turned  in  his  saddle  and 
looked  back.  The  morning  sun  was  lighting 
up  the  straggling  branches  of  the  tall  trees 
that  had  overshadowed  the  camp,  and  fell  on 
the  little  stunted  tree,  with  its  white  stem 
and  outstretched  arms,  and  on  the  stones 
beneath  it. 

"  It 's  all  that  night  on  the  koppje ! "  said 
the  Colonial,  sadly. 

But  the  Englishman  looked  back.  "  I  hardly 
know,"  he  said,  "whether  it  is  not  better  for 
him  now  than  for  us." 

Then  they  rode  on  after  the  troop. 

THE   END. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


Stor\>  of  an  Hfrfcan  Jfarm, 


A  Novel.    By  OLIVE  SCHREINER,  author  of  "  Dream 
**********        Life    and    Real    Life,"    "  Dreams," 

"Trooper  Peter  Halket,"  etc.    I6mo. 

Cloth.    60  cents. 

It  is  written  with  so  constant  an  intensity  of  passionate  feeling,  with  so  much 
sincerity  and  depth  of  thought,  with  such  a  terrible  realism  in  details,  with  so  much 
sympathy  and  high  imagination  in  its  broader  aspects,  and  finally  with  such  a  tense 
power,  as  of  quivering  muscles,  that  the  reader,  at  once  repelled  and  fascinated,  can- 
not lay  the  book  down  until  he  has  turned  the  last  page.  —  Boston  Daily  A  dvertiser. 

"  The  Story  of  an  African  Farm,"  by  Ralph  Iron  (Olive  Schreiner),  is  one  of 
those  books  which  are  remarkable  because  they  voice  with  power  the  passionate  charac- 
teristics of  the  age  in  which  they  are  written.  It  is  in  the  first  place  a  graphic  picture 
of  life  in  a  South  African  colony ;  but  even  its  fidelity  to  this  novel  phase  of  existence 
is  of  far  less  importance  than  its  passionate  earnestness,  its  intense  emotion,  its  pro- 
found sympathy  with  the  struggle  of  a  mind  naturally  devout  with  the  restless  unfaith 
of  the  time.  The  reader  is  stirred  so  deeply  that  it  is  hard  to  say  whether  what  he 
feels  is  pain  or  pleasure,  only  that  he  cannot  shake  off  the  hold  of  the  book's  fascina- 
tion. It  is  one  of  the  most  emotional  of  recent  novels,  and  not  to  read  it  is  to  miss  a 
profound  sensation.  —  The  Courier. 

There  is  power  of  a  peculiar  sort  in  this  little  volume  of  sketches  of  farm  life 
among  the  Boers  in  South  Africa.  Each  of  the  characters  has  a  striking  individuality, 
and  the  descriptions  of  the  manner  of  life  they  lead  have  so  much  of  the  color  of 
reality,  that  they  must  rest  upon  a  basis  of  actual  experience.  The  contrast  of  types  is 
sharply  accentuated,  and  the  development  of  character  is  cleverly  indicated.  The 
book,  in  fact,  is  not  so  much  a  story  as  it  is  a  study  of  character  as  affected  by  peculiar 
surroundings.  Yet  a  strange  fascination  attaches  to  the  fortunes  of  the  headstrong 
young  English  girl,  Lyndall,  whose  singular  career  and  pathetic  fate  supply  some  of 
the  most  effective  pages  in  the  book.  There  is  humor  of  a  grim  sort,  too,  in  the  pic- 
ture of  the  hypocritical  adventurer,  Bonaparte  Blenkins.  —  Book  Buyer. 

"  The  Story  of  an  African  Farm  "  is  in  many  ways  a  remarkable  book.  Of 
downright  power,  yet  written  with  poetic  delicacy  of  touch,  as  absolutely  original  in 
method  and  treatment  as  its  scenes  are  novel  and  its  people  new,  it  throws  itself  across 
the  level  of  ordinary  fiction  like  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land.  In  its 
structure  the  romance,  as  its  author  calls  it,  is  as  intricate  as  a  spiders'  web,  and  as 
full  of  surprises  as  if  one  of  its  objects  was  to  lure  the  reader  of  light  literature  into 
the  very  heart  of  a  psychological  jungle  ere  he  suspected  whither  his  steps  were 
tending.  —  The  Critic.  

Sold  by  all  Booksellers.    Mailed,  postpaid,  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS, 

BOSTON,  MASS. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


Dream  Ijfe  ^  I^eal  Ijfe. 


JLittle  African 


BY  OLIVE    SCHREINER, 

AUTHOR  OF  "DREAMS"  AND  "THE  STORY  OF  AN  AFRICAN  FARM." 
K'tnio.     Half  cloth.     GO  cents. 


These  are  veritable  poems  in  prose  that  Olive  Schreiner  has  brought 
together.  With  her  the  theme  is  ever  the  martyrdom,  the  self-sacrifice  and 
Jhe  aspirations  of  woman  ;  and  no  writer  has  expressed  these  qualities  with 
deeper  profundity  of  pathos  or  with  keener  insight  into  the  motives  that 
govern  the  elemental  impulses  of  the  human  heart.  To  read  the  three 
little  stories  in  this  book  is  to  touch  close  upon  the  mysteries  of  love  and 
fate  and  to  behold  the  workings  of  tragedies  that  are  acted  in  the  soul. 
The  Beacon. 

Three  small  gems  are  the  only  contents  of  this  literary  casket ;  and  yet 
they  reflect  so  clearly  the  blending  of  reality  and  ideality,  and  are  so  per- 
fectly polished  with  artistic  handling,  that  the  reader  is  quite  content  with 
the  three.  It  is  a  book  to  be  read  and  enjoyed.  —  Public  Opinion. 

There  is  a  peculiar  charm  about  all  of  these  stories  that  quite  escapes 
the  cursory  reader.  It  is  as  evasive  as  the  fragrance  of  the  violet,  and 
equally  difficult  to  analyze.  The  philosophy  is  so  subtle,  the  poetry  so 
delicate,  that  the  fascination  grows  upon  one  and  defies  description.  With 
style  that  is  well  nigh  classic  in  its  simplicity  Miss  Schreiner  excites  our 
emotions  and  gently  stimulates  our  imagination.  —  The  Budget. 

All  the  sketches  reveal  originality  of  treatment,  but  the  first  one  is  a 
characteristically  pathetic  reproduction  of  child-life  under  exceptional 
circumstances,  that  will  bring  tears  to  many  eyes.  —  Saturday  Evening 
Gazette. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.    Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of 
the  price  by  the  Publishers. 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  BOSTON. 


By  the  author  of  "  The  Story  of  an  African  Farm" 

DREAMS. 

BY   OLIVE    SCHREINER. 
I  Brno.     Cloth.     Portrait  of  the   Author.      Price,  $0.60. 


Any  one  who  has  read  "  The  Story  of  an  African  Farm  "  will  need 
no  urging  to  read  Olive  Schreiner's  "Dreams."  It  is  a  collection  of 
allegories  of  life,  as  vividly  condensed  as  tales  by  Maupassant  or  Coppee, 
but  each  opening  up  a  long  vista  to  the  imagination.  Many  of  the  prob- 
lems which  were  outlined  in  the  African  romance  are  dealt  with  here. 
In  fact,  these  allegories  remind  one  of  an  author's  commonplace  book. 
Miss  Schreiner  had  thought  much  and  deeply  of  the  mysteries  of  human 
life  before  she  poured  out  her  doubts  and  longings  in  the  African  story, 
and  in  these  dreams  we  may  see  the  kernel  of  some  of  her  best  work. 
...  It  is  not  a  book  which  one  may  take  up,  read  through  at  a  sitting, 
and  then  discard ;  but  it  is  a  volume  that  is  worthy  of  study,  for  it  is  only 
after  several  readings  that  one  comes  to  appreciate  fully  the  beauty  and 
the  effectiveness  of  one  of  these  allegories  of  life.  —  San  Francisco 
Chronidle. 

Has  Miss  Schreiner  a  message  to  give,  the  thoughtful  reader  may 
well  ask.  Does  all  this  exquisite  art  tend  to  a  higher  purpose  than  itself? 
The  question  will  answer  itself.  Never  was  a  writer  in  deeper  sympathy 
with  truth,  or  more  marvellously  winged  with  aspiration  Never  was 
there  depicted  a  more  earnest  sympathy  with  the  life  that  has  lost  its 
hold  on  good,  and  wandered  from  its  true  course.  The  spiritual  signifi- 
cance is  as  great  as  is  the  intellectual  grasp.  The  human  life,  the  life 
next  beyond  this  human  life,  are  both  sources  of  inspiration  from  which 
she  draws. 

The  reader  will  feel  indebted  to  the  publishers  for  giving,  as  a  frontis- 

Eiece,  a  portrait  of  Miss  Schreiner.     It  is  a  fine,  thoughtful,  spiritual 
ice  that  meets  the  eye  (its  expression  a  little  inscrutable),  the  face  of  a 
young  and  lovely  woman  who  trusts,  hopes,  believes,  and  yet  —  questions 
life.    The  book  is  a  treasure  for  a  lifetime.  —  Sunday  Budget. 

The  book  stands  the  only  one  of  its  kind.  It  is  like  seeing  visions  to 
read  it ;  and  no  one  can  read  it  understaudingly  and  not  be  inspired  to 
fresh  struggles  to  attain  the  true,  the  good,  and  the  beautiful.  —  Public 
Opinion. 

On  the  whole  we  should  say  the  book  is  done  in  Olive  Schreiner's 
better  vein.  It  contains  grand  passages,  and  passages  _which  indicate 
a  struggling,  aspiring,  rising  moral  nature,  capable  of  high  conception* 
Hid  oftrue,  deep  insight  —  Independent. 

THIS   IS  THB  ONLY   AUTHORIZED   EDITION. 

Sold  everywhere.    Mailed,  postpaid,  by  the  publishers. 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  BOSTON. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


3foam  of  tbe  Sea. 

By  GERTRUDE   HALL, 
Author  of  "Far  from  To-day,"  "Allegretto,"  "  Verses,"  etc. 

16mo.    Cloth.    Price,  $1.00. 


Miss  Gertrude  Hall's  second  volume  of  short  stories,  "  Foam  of  the  Sea  and 
Other  Tales,"  shows  the  same  characteristics  as  the  first,  which  will  be  instantly 
remembered  under  the  title  of  "  Far  from  To-day."  They  are  vigorous,  fanciful,  in 
part  quaint,  always  thought-stirring  and  thoughtful.  She  has  followed  old  models 
somewhat  in  her  style,  and  the  setting  of  many  of  the  tales  is  medixval.  The 
atmosphere  of  them  is  fascinating,  so  unusual  and  so  pervading  is  it ;  and  always 
refined  are  her  stories,  and  graceful,  even  with  an  occasional  touch  of  grotesquerie. 
And  there  is  an  underlying  subtleness  in  them,  a  grasp  of  the  problems  of  the 
heart  and  the  head,  in  short,  of  life,  which  is  remarkable ;  and  yet  they,  for  the 
most  part,  are  romantic  to  a  high  degree,  and  reveal  an  imagination  far  beyond 
the  ordinary.  "  Foam  of  the  Sea,"  like  "  Far  from  To-day,"  is  a  volume  of  rare 
tales,  beautifully  wrought  out  of  the  past  for  the  delectation  of  the  present 

Of  the  six  tales  in  the  volume,  "  Powers  of  Darkness  "  alone  has  a  wholly  nine- 
teenth century  flavor.  It  is  a  sermon  told  through  two  lives  pathetically  raisera- 
able.  "The  Late  Returning"  is  dramatic  and  admirably  turned,  strong  in  its 
heart  analysis.  "  Foam  of  the  Sea  "  is  almost  archaic  in  its  rugged  simplicity, 
and  "Garden  Deadly  "(the  most  imaginative  of  the  six)  is  beautiful  in  its 
descriptions,  weird  in  its  setting,  and  curiously  effective.  "  The  Wanderers  "  is  a 
touching  tale  of  the  early  Christians,  and  "  In  Battlereagh  House  "  there  is  the 
best  character  drawing. 

Miss  Hall  is  venturing  along  a  unique  line  of  story  telling,  and  must  win  the 
praise  of  the  discriminating.  —  The  Boston  Times. 

There  is  something  in  the  quality  of  the  six  stories  by  Gertrude  Hall  in  the 
volume  to  which  this  title  is  given  which  will  attract  attention.  They  are  stories 
which  must  —  some  of  them  —  be  read  more  than  once  to  be  appreciated.  They 
are  fascinating  in  their  subtlety  of  suggestion,  in  their  keen  analysis  of  motive, 
and  in  their  exquisite  grace  of  diction.  There  is  great  dramatic  power  in 
"  Powers  of  Darkness  "  and  "  In  Battlereagh  House."  They  are  stories  which 
should  occupy  more  than  the  idle  hour.  They  are  studies.  —  Boston  Adver- 
tiser. 

She  possesses  a  curious  originality,  and,  what  does  not  always  accompany  this 
rare  faculty,  skill  in  controlling  it  and  compelling  it  to  take  artistic  forms.  —  Mail 
and  Express. 

Sold  by  all  Booksellers.  Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 
the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 

FAR  FROM  TO-DAY, 

&  Folume  of  Stories* 

BY   GERTRUDE    HALL, 
70/no.    Cloth.    Price,  $1.00. 


THESE  stories  are  marked  with  originality  and  power.    The  titles 
are  as  follows :  viz.,  Tristiane,  The  Sons  of  Philemon,  Servirol, 
Sylvanus,  Theodolind,  Shepherds. 

Miss  Hall  has  put  together  here  a  set  of  gracefully  written  tales,  —  tales  of  long 
ago.  They  have  an  old-world  mediaeval  feeling  about  them,  soft  with  intervening 
distance,  like  the  light  upon  some  feudal  castle  wall,  seen  through  the  openings  of 
the  forest.  A  refined  fancy  and  many  an  artistic  touch  has  been  spent  upon  the 
composition  with  good  result.  —  London  Bookseller. 

"  Although  these  six  stories  are  dreams  of  the  misty  past,  their  morals  have  a 
most  direct  bearing  on  the  present.  An  author  who  has  the  soul  to  conceive  such 
stories  is  worthy  to  rank  among  the  highest.  One  of  our  best  literary  critics,  Mrs. 
Louise  Chandler  Moulton,  says :  "  I  think  it  is  a  work  of  real  genius,  Homeric  in 
its  simplicity,  and  beautiful  exceedingly.'" 

Mrs.  Harriet  Prescott  Spofford,  in  the  Newburyport  Herald:  — 
41  A  volume  giving  evidence  of  surprising  genius  is  a  collection  of  six  tales  by 
Gertrude  Hall, called  Far  from  To-day.'  I  recall  no  stories  at  once  so  powerful  and 
subtle  as  these.  Their  literary  charm  is  complete,  their  range  of  learning  is  vast,  and 
their  human  interest  is  intense.  '  Tristiane,'  the  first  one,  is  as  brilliant  and  ingenious, 
to  say  the  least,  as  the  best  chapter  of  Arthur  Hardy's  '  Passe  Rose ; '  '  Sylvanus' 
tells  a  heart-breaking_  tale,  full  of  wild  delight  in  hills  and  winds  and  skies,  full  of 
pathos  and  poetry ;  in  '  The  Sons  of  Philemon '  the  Greek  spirit  is  perfect,  the 
story  absolutely  beautiful ;  'Theodolind,'  again,  repeats  the  Norse  life  to  the  echo, 
even  to  the  very  measure  of  the  runes;  and  'The  Shepherds'  gives  another  reading 
to  the  meaning  of  'The  Statue  and  the  Bust.'  Portions  of  these  stories  are  told 
with  an  almost  archaic  simplicity,  while  other  portions  mount  on  great  wings  of 
poetry,  '  Far  from  To-day,'  as  the  time  of  the  stories  is  placed ;  the  hearts  that 
beat  in  them  are  the  hearts  of  to-day,  and  each  one  of  these  stories  breathes  the  joy 
and  the  sorrow  of  life,  and  is  rich  with  the  beauty  of  the  world." 

From  the  London  Academy,  December  24th :  — 

"The  six  stories  in  the  dainty  volume  entitled  '  Far  from  To-day'  are  of  imagina- 
tion all  compact.  _  The  American  short  tales,  which  have  of  late  attained  a  wide  and 
deserved  popularity  in  this  country,  have  not  bee_n  lacking  in  this  vitalizing  quality ; 
but  the  art  of  Mrs.  Slosson  and  Miss  Wilkius  is  that  of  imaginative  realism,  while 
that  of  Miss  Gertrude  Hall  is  that  of  imaginative  romance;  theirs  is  the  work  of 
impassioned  observation,  hers  of  impassioned  invention.  There  is  in  her  book  a 
fine,  delicate  fantasy  that  reminds  one  of  Hawthorne  in  his  sweetest  moods;  and 
while  Hawthorne  had  certain  gifts  which  were  all  his  own,  the  new  writer  ex- 
hibits a  certain  winning  tenderness  in  which  he  was  generally  deficient  In  the 
domain  of  pure  romance  it  is  long  since  we  have  had  anything  so  rich  in  simple 
beauty  as  is  the  work  which  is  to  be  found  between  the  covers  of  '  Far  from 
To-day.' " 


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publishers, 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,   BOSTON. 


iscynotrjs 


IN  SCARLET  AND  GREY. 

Storks  of  Soldiers  and  others.  By  Florence 
Henniker;  with  THE  SPECTRE  OF  THE 
REAL,  by  Thomas  Hardy  and  Florence  Henni- 
ker  (in  collaboration). 

16mo.     Cloth.     Price,  $1.00. 


From  the  daughter  of  so  distinguished  a  man  of  letters  as  the  late  Lord 
Houghton,  the  sister  of  so  accomplished  and  graceful  a  writer  of  society  verse  as 
Lord  Crewe,  we  expect  much.  But  the  volume  before  us  is  a  great  and  undoubted 
advance  upon  anything  which  Mrs.  Henniker  has  yet  done,  combining,  as  it 
does,  the  qualities  of  strength  and  tenderness  with  grace,  ease,  and  distinction  of 
literary  form. 

The  last  tale  in  the  book  is  the  joint  work  of  Mrs.  Henniker  and  Mr.  Thomas 
Hardy.  "  The  Spectre  of  the  Real "  is  a  somber  but  singularly  striking  story,  as 
was  only  to  be  expected  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  greatest  of  living  English 
novelists  has  a  hand  in  it.  —  The  Sketch. 

The  misfortunes  and  sorrows  of  misplaced  love  are  the  theme  of  four  out  of 
the  six  stories  making  up  the  collection  called  "  In  Scarlet  and  Grey,  by  Florence 
Henniker,  and  the  same  theme  is  dealt  with  in  the  tale  entitled  "The  Spectre  of 
the  Real,"  by  Thomas  Hardy  and  Florence  Henniker,  bound  up  in  the  same 
volume.  This  last-named  story  shows  unmistakably  Mr.  Hardy's  characteristic 
touch,  and  is  strongly  worked  out  to  a  dramatic  and  irresistible  conclusion.  A 
clandestine  marriage,  and  the  results  that  come  of  it,  supply  the  immediate  frame- 
work of  the  tale,  in  which  the  personality  of  the  three  leading  actors  stands  out 
with  vivid  intensity.  Of  Mrs.  Henniker's  own  stories  it  can  oe  said  in  all  truth- 
fulness that  they  exhibit  a  quality  of  imagination  and  technique  far  superior  to  the 
average  run  of  fiction.  Mrs.  Henniker  seems  to  partake  fully  of  Mr.  Hardy's 
views  regarding  the  lottery  of  love,  and  she  exploits  them  quite  fearlessly, 
especially  in  the  glowing  and  tragic  tale,  "At  the  Sign  of  the  Startled  Fawn." 
Mrs.  Henniker's  humor  is  admirably  unfeminine,  and  in  "A  Successful  Intru- 
sion," recording  the  experiences  of  a  company  of  pious  British  tourists  in  Rome 
with  a  clever  adventurer,  it  attains  delightful  effects.  —  The  Beacon. 

The  stories  are  gracefully  told  and  abound  in  patriotic  sentiment.  "The 
Spectre  of  the  Real "  is  a  fine  piece  of  fiction,  and  is  a  story  revealing  how  physi- 
cal love  fires  burn  themselves  out,  and  leave  nothing  but  ashes  and  cinders,  with 
all  the  warmth  forgotten.  —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

The  opening  story,  "The  Heart  of  the  Color  Sergeant,"  will  touch  a  respon- 
sive chord  in  the  heart  of  every  sympathetic  reader;  it  is  as  beautifully  told  as  it 
is  touching.  "  Bad  and  Worthless  "  convevs  a  moral  that  will  sink  into  the  heart 
and  arouse  the  moral  conviction  with  an  effect  that  the  most  eloquent  sermon  on 
Christian  charity  could  not  equal.  The  other  stories,  including  the  collaboration, 
are  of  an  interesting  character,  and  all  are  first-class  specimens  of  the  modern 
story.  As  literary  productions  they  challenge  criticism.  —  Boston  Home  Journal. 


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